


Forgive me father, because I have sinned...

by LenaLanders



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Adult Content, Bisexual Male Character, Dominance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Light Masochism, M/M, Mind Games, Monks, Nuns, Physical Abuse, Priests, Problems, Psychological Trauma, Punishment, Rammstein - Freeform, Romance, Rosenrot vibes, Scandal, Sexual Content, Submission, medieval priory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLanders/pseuds/LenaLanders
Summary: Rammstein, a band famous for their controversial show and obscene lyrics, decides to support the LGBT community. However, not everyone likes waving a rainbow flag or male kisses on stage. An international group of homophobic headhunters set out to chase the band members. Rammstein must escape from Germany and hide in a place they don't seem to fit in at all.





	1. Unperfect Housewife

It was one of the longest tours Rammstein have ever played. Everyone was terribly tired because of performances frequency. Luckily, the worst was behind them. They made a great album and didn’t screw up anything. Despite several quarrels, cooperation was good. Really good.

  
After the concerts there is always a time to return to daily duties. So when he finished doing laundry, washing dishes, vacuuming and cleaning floors, Richard decided to take care of himself. He thought he should definitely paint his nails with a brand new color. Brand new black color.  
He was sitting on the balcony in his Berlin apartment. A medium, five-room apartment in an old tenement house, slightly renovated. The day was warm, the sky was cloudy. Richard looked up to the sky and realised it could start raining at any time. He hoped that the laundry would dry out in time.  
  
Absorbed in nail painting, he didn’t notice a small man appeared in the balcony door.  
  
"Why is the door open? You should lock it for your own safety." Paul said.  
  
Richard raised his black eyebrows.  
  
"Nobody knows where I live, there are only elderly people in this building, relax." He responded.  
  
Landers sighed and walked onto the balcony.  
  
"Nobody knows, including me. It's been a long time since I was at your house last time so I had to ask your neighbor for the exact address. I forgot which floor you live in. There are a lot of flats here. Nevertheless, the door should be locked."  
  
"You seem to have forgotten I was a wrestler when I was young. I still remember how to defend myself. Thanks for your caring but I can do it on my own."  
  
Then Paul noticed that Richard was so busy painting his nails. He laughed.  
  
"What are you laughing at? I have to look good." Richard tried to sounds serious.  
  
"Have you ever wondered how many female attributes you have?" Paul asked, taking the black polish in his hand and looking at it with attention.  
  
"Schneider has many of these and no one has ever complained about it." Richard took the polish from Paul’s hand. "You are disturbing me. I'll be done in a minute."

After a while, both gentlemen were sitting in the kitchen, and Richard was searching the cabinets for coffee.  
  
‘‘So what’s up with the others?” he asked with a large cup in his hands.  
  
‘‘Good, I think. Schneider is on his way home, same as Oliver.” Paul answered.  
  
Richard flooded the coffee and gave a cup to Paul. The coffee was black. As everything in Richard’s home, even his clothes. It was funny for Paul when he noticed all black laundry on the balcony except for the boxers. They were pink.  
  
‘‘Danke. Uhm, why you have a pair of pink briefs?”  
  
Richard turned his head and looked at his drying underwear.  
  
‘‘It used to be white but I mixed it with the red ones in washing machine. I forgot about the color rules.  
  
Paul smiled.  
‘‘I came because I have to tell you about Till. I tried to contact with him, but he's not answering his phone.”  
  
‘‘Do you think something happened?”  
  
Paul contemplated for a moment and rubbed his tired eyes.  
  
‘‘Maybe. I don’t know."  
  
Richard disagreed.  
  
‘‘I don't think so. He's just had enough of us and needs some time for himself. He's been working hard over the last few months.”  
  
‘‘Yes, but still that's no reason to separate yourself from your friends and co-workers.”  
  
Paul knew that the tour time was very difficult for the whole band and maybe Richard is right. What if Till needs some space to recover? He also knew that Richard was about to start an uncomfortable topic and complain about his life.  
  
‘‘That was the last Rammstein album. I’m telling you.” Richard said and drunk a sip of his coffee.  
  
Paul clogged his ears.  
  
‘‘Nein, I don’t wanna hear it! Stop, please!”  
  
Richard was a stubborn man. Really stubborn one.  
  
‘‘Stop saying shit, you said the same thing ten years ago, remember? In 2009 when we made LIFAD album. Guess what, we’re still on top, so just be quiet and enjoy this beautiful day.”  
  
Apart from Till, Paul was the only person who could make Richard stop complaining and act like a boor. Their friendship was many times put to the test, but they always forgave each other for everything, even though the beginning wasn't easy and when the band was in the formation phase, they both didn't like each other.  
After twenty-five years together, Paul was sure he could jump into fire for Richard. He would do anything for him. He took care of him, supported him just as a friends should support each other. Paul was always ready to listen and gives Richard advices.  
  
Suddenly he noticed a plant standing on the windowsill. That was the special plant he gave Richard during the working on the new album – then Richard decided to settle down in Berlin.  
There was a lot of water. Too much.  
  
‘‘Richard, how often have you watered this plant?” Paul asked pointing to a flowerpot.  
  
‘‘Uhm, like everyday I think.”  
  
Paul rolled his eyes out.  
  
‘‘It’s succulent, you idiot. You don’t have to water it everyday. Just look, it started to rot.”  
  
‘‘So?”  
  
Paul found that Richard didn't have the ladies' qualities as he thought Richard had before. No woman would have killed her plant intentionally!  
  
‘‘So I’m going to fix it. Do you have some plant ground?”

A moment later Paul armed with garden gloves tried to repair what Richard had destroyed in recent weeks.  
  
‘‘Do you mind if I smoke?” Richard asked.  
  
‘‘Just go on”  
  
Richard didn't have time to pull the lighter out of his pants when he heard heavy footsteps in the lobby. Till entered the living room and looked around confused and angry at the same time. He was wearing a black shirt and jeans.  
  
‘‘I told you he’s okay” Richard said with a great deal of self-confidence. Till growled.  
  
‘‘You moron.”  
  
‘‘That’s the nice start. But you should say _hello_.”  
  
‘‘You moron!” Till repeated. ‘‘Why aren't you answering your phone?!”  
  
Richard put a pack of cigarettes on the windowsill and started checking his trouser pockets. He found his phone. The screen was black.   
  
‘‘My battery is dead I think.”  
  
‘‘What happenned?” Paul came into the living room.  
  
When Till noticed that Paul was wearing garden gloves, he seemed confused. This afternoon could not be even strange.  
  
‘‘What the hell are you two doing here, you lovebirds?”  
  
‘‘Actually I’m trying to save this little plant” Paul pointed to a flower pot which was on the windowsill.  
  
‘‘I called it Steven, I don’t know why” Richard said with smile which made Till even more angry. The frontman was just going to say that Steven is probably the name of Richard's first boyfriend. After all Till surrendered. First things first.  
  
‘‘Call the boys. We have to meet. Here. We have problem.”  
  
Richard protested.  
  
‘‘Hold on a sec my house is not a hotel!”  
  
Paul seeing the behavior of Till considered that the situation is really serious. He tried to calm down Richard, but the guitarist apparently didn't intend to listen to him.  
  
‘‘Where were you in that outfit?” Paul asked and took off the gloves.  
  
‘‘In the prosecutor's office. I had a very unpleasant conversation.”  
  
‘‘About that guy you broke his jaw?”  
  
‘‘Worse. This time it's about us.”


	2. Ominous Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schneider sometimes forgets that he is not in Mein Teil's music video and he can't cooperate.

The journey was long. It was too long. He drove over 400 kilometers and was damn tired. At two p.m. o'clock Christoph reached his home. He took his luggage out of the car and slowly walked to the door. He went inside and put the bags in the hallway.

”Honey, I’m home!” he shouted.

His wife had run into his arms.

”I’m so happy that you’re finally back.”. She said kissing him. ”Welcome home, Chris.”

Christoph smiled and hugged her tightly. He missed her so much. He was home. Finally home. The tour was over and now he could spend the time with family.

”Where’s the kids?” He asked.

”They're at my mom's. They wanted to stay in the country for a few more days. I didn't expect you to come back so soon. What happened?”

”Nothing, just the 2019 tour is over and instead of wasting time on sightseeing I decided to go back home. I missed you.” He said with smile.

Ulrike took him to the kitchen, still holding his hand.

”You must be hungry, right? Go upstairs and take a shower, and I'll make dinner. Would you like something special?”

Christoph shakes his head and pulls his wife to himself.

”I'll eat anything you offer.”

She smiled and kissed him once more.

”Okay.”

When he was walking up the stairs, she came out of the kitchen and called his name.

”Chris!”

He turned back.

”Yes?”

”I love you.”

”Oh, I love you too.” He responsed.

He went into the bedroom, took out a comfortable tracksuit from the wardrobe. As soon as he entered the bathroom his phone started ringing like crazy. Christoph looked at the screen. It was Till. He answered the phone.

”Lindemann. What do you want this time?” The drummer asked with boredom, which he had learned for similar occasions. Till always called at the wrong time. He usually called with some resentment. But sometimes he called because he felt lonely, or at least he said so. Christoph thought he should have two phones. One for the band, the other only for family and friends. Only for family and friends. Yes, that would be nice.

”I'm glad you answered, Schneider. Listen, we have a serious case.” Said Till, and Christoph rolled his eyes out.

”God, give me patience! I went into the house like five minutes ago, I haven't unpacked yet. What happened?”

Till sighted. Christoph wasn't going to stop talking. He did not want to allow Till to speak.

”If you want to talk again, please call Richard or Paul.”

”Could you just shut up for a few seconds and let me talk?” Till asked with a little bit of anger in his voice which confused Christoph. The drummer was very humorous and all members of the band knew perfectly well about his delicate feminine side. Actually, it wasn't a delicate side. Christoph was simply possessive and malicious. Like some women.

”Tell me what's going on before I lose my nerves.”

”You have to come to Berlin. We’re in Kruspe’s apartament. I mean me, Paul and Richard. We need to talk.”

”Could you tell me that on the phone?” Schneider asked. He was taking off his shirt with one hand.

”I'll tell you what to do, and you'll do it without asking any questions. You're gonna pack. You will take things for about two, maybe three weeks and come to Berlin. As I said, the reason is important. And it's not a joke. We are waiting for you. You have to be here as soon as possible.” The voice on the phone sounded serious and Christoph began to wonder if this time it was a joke from his colleagues or if something really happened. A few years ago, when they were younger, Till was able to get Christoph out of bed, claiming it was an emergency, and then it turned out that the band was really going to spend the night in bars and karaoke clubs where Landers could yell at the pop songs that Christoph hated. Everyone had a great time, except for him. These trips usually ended with a terrible hangover, headache and a sick stomach for the next two days. Sometimes Christoph thought that Till simply likes to bully him in this way because everyone in the band thinks he's a party pooper. Especially now when he's married and no longer a free spirit.

Till knew Christoph had a difficult character, but expected the drummer to soften up and agree to come. But he didn't anticipate that the last tour was so tiring for Christoph that he didn't feel like going outside the house. This time, however, Christoph was supposed to be very far away from home, which he didn't know yet.

”I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying home.” Schneider said hardly.

”You will go. This is a recommendation from the management. Shut up, pack your things and come or we'll dissolve the contract. Will you put us out on a limb? Should we look for another drummer? Imagine the fans will hate you. What will we say then, that you’re offended? Ladies and gentlemen, Christoph refused a certain industry proposal, so we had to kick him out of the band. You will look ignorant.”

Christoph opened his mouth in shock. He considered that Till was not kidding and this time it was something really important. He sighed helplessly and closed his eyes.

”What am I going to tell my wife?”

”That you have to leave, it's something about work. I don't know! Figure something out!” Till shouted to the phone.

”Three weeks? Not a day more?” Schneider asked.

”I can't guarantee you that but the fate of the band depends on it, so it's like... You have no choice.” The tone of Till’s voice softened. The singer knew that Christoph will crack under threat of being thrown out of the band.

Finally Christoph broke down and agreed to come.

He took a quick shower, then got another suitcase out of the closet and packed himself in a few minutes. The most necessary things. He remembered that the bags in the hallway were unpacked. Not a problem, at most he will take them with him.

When he came downstairs, his wife finished setting the table. Dinner was ready.

”We need to talk. The team manager called. We have a big problem, I have to... I have to leave for some time.”


	3. Lifestyles of the rich and the famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Christoph's adventures and what happens in the face of an emergency...

The August storm rolled lazily over the city, muttering angrily. The windows of tenement houses on a quiet street opened wide to let in a little fresh air. The rain hit the cars parked tightly on both sides of the narrow road. For someone who was walking on unstable flagstones, additionally maneuvering between puddles and dragging two large suitcases with him Christoph was moving at a rapid pace.

He left the car outside the house. He ate on the run and then rushed to the station to catch the first train to Berlin. He didn't even think of a taxi since leaving the station. He just walked ahead with a really strange feeling.

The clouds squeezed the last drops of rain on him. The leather jacket protected against cold air, but slowly began to let water pass through. Christoph wasn't sure he was moving in the right direction. He stood at the first gate that was open and sent a text message to Richard asking for the exact address.

_**Prenzlauer Berg**. _

He must get there somehow. He turned on the GPS on his phone. The road was straight. He had only three blocks to go.

15 minutes later Christoph was tugging his suitcases straight to the third floor of the tenement house. When he was on the right floor noisy conversations were heard from the apartment .

Christoph put the suitcases on the doormat and tried to come in but the door was shut.

”Hey, you idiots let me in!” He shouted.

Till opened the door and despite the fact that Christoph obeyed his orders – left his wife at home, packed his bags and arrived in Berlin – the singer still was not impressed.

The drummer rolled into the apartment and Till took his package mercifully. Christoph was soaked. He thought that he would definitely get sick after travelling Berlin in the rain.

He quickly took off his shoes as wet as his clothes and realised that Till suddenly disappeared with his package. He took a step and immediately tripped over something in the hall. He looked dawn. There were other suitcases. He stared at them to estimate their number. Regardless of how he counted the result invariably showed that there were a total of seven suitcases. Seven!

”I’m gonna get sick.” He sighed annoyed. He took off his wet jacket, which had already made a large puddle on the floor. ”Richard? Where can I hang it? It's completely wet!”

Richard came into the hall to welcome Christoph. When he saw him, he winced in disgust.

”I know you ugly, but now you look… awful. More than usual.” He said.

”Can I hang it in the bathroom? I flood the floor with water.” Christoph asked, but Richard shook his head and pointed to the long corridor.

”Go hang it on the balcony.” Richard ordered.

”Why not in the bathroom?”

”Bathroom is occupied now.”

Schneider raised an eyebrow and a few wrinkles.

”By whom?” He asked.

”Oliver is taking a shower.” Richard explained, and Christoph began to wonder if he was dreaming all this.

So Till called and brought him to Berlin immediately for a pajama party? Christoph was confused.

”Can you explain to me what's going on here?!” He shouted on Richard. The guitarist looked relaxed, as if he didn't care. He stood in front of Christoph in a gray T-shirt and sweat pants, holding cigarettes in his hands.

”Calm down, Schnei. Do you want coffee or tea? Maybe something cold?”

”I am soaked, I feel cold and you suggest something cold to drink?! Give me a shirt, now. I won't rummage in my suitcases now, Till took them out, I don’t fucking know where.”

”Chill. Make yourself comfortable, and undress. I will bring you some clothes to change and hot tea. You don't look well.” Richard disappeared around the corner, leaving Christoph alone with his thoughts.

”Undress?” The drummer was suprised. ”Do you have any orgy here? Oh what the fuck is this about?’’

Suddenly Till reappeared in the hallway.

”Well, it's not so good in this band yet. Your suitcases are all wet. I put them by the radiator in one of the bedrooms.” Till explained. ”Come on, don't stand in the lobby like a moron.”

Till pushed him slightly forward and finally Christoph stopped sulking and entered the living room where he saw a very interesting view.

The table was covered with food and cans with Coca Cola. Flake was eating some salad and Paul was rocking in all directions singing Jennifer Lopez most popular songs. Schneider thought he was probably dead and came to hell while traveling home. It couldn't be happening.

”_Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got, I'm still, I'm still Jenny from the block, used to have a little, now I have a lot._ ” Paul was singing terribly.

”Why is he dancing like an idiot?" The drummer asked.

Flake raised his thin shoulders but didn't stop eating his dinner.

”Maybe it's a mating dance. You know, summer is in full swing, love is flourishing." He asnwered.

”You guys shoot up something to your veins. Am I right?” Schneider asked and turned his attention to Landers dancing on the couch. ”You know that there is such a golden rule, never mix Mary Jane with alcohol?” 

”But we didn't take anything!” Till protested loudly.

”Where does this champagne mood come from? Will I finally find out what this is about? Why am I here? So far you don’t fucking care about me!” Christoph got angry again, which made Paul laughing like an idiot. The drummer looked at him with anger. ”You still, you still moron from the GDR .”

Till showed him the couch.

”Sit on your ass like a man and stop getting angry, I'll explain everything to you in a moment.” He said. ”Where the hell are you going, Landers?”

”I’m gonna go to the kitchen and check if Richard needs some help.” Paul left the room. Fortunately, he stopped singing, so Schneider's ears could rest a bit.

When the Drummer finally sat up and tried to calm his broken nerves, something suddenly hit the floor and all three men heard a shrill scream. Schneider jumped in fear.

Richard entered the living room, he had a black T-shirt on his shoulder, in one hand he was holding a towel and in the other a cup of tea. He handed the cup and towel to Christoph.

”Please, you can change it. If it's too small, take something from Oliver's suitcase.” Richard said.

”What happened in the kitchen? Who screamed the face down? ” Till asked and looked at Richard.

”Paul burned himself with hot water from the coffee machine.” Richard explained.

In the meantime, Christoph took off his soaked T-shirt and put on the one Richard had brought him.

”And you won't check if he's okay?” Schneider asked ironically what Richard did not notice.

”Nah. He’s gonna be okay.” He responsed.

After the shower, Oliver entered the room wearing only pajama pants and smiled slightly seeing Christoph. Paul followed him, holding his finger with pain in his face.

”Hello, I’m glad you’re here.” Oliver said politely.

Schneider sighed.

Till turned the tv off.

”Well, now we are complete and finally we can explain to a dear colleague what this is really about.” He said.

Christoph made a fake smile to him.

”Yeah, it would be nice.”


	4. Ghosts of the past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, listen. I hope that after this chapter no one will feel offended! I just wanted to point out that after the tour in many media I find information that Rammstein shocked the audience again. As a psychologist I must say Rammstein did a great job and I respect them even more because of what they did!  
So treat my work as absolute fiction, cause it's just fanfiction. The next chapters will be funnier, I promise you, guys.  
Remember, people, respect each other, love each other.  
LIFAD!

”So you want to tell me that we have sucked. What does our lawyer say about it?”

”That we have sucked.”

For the last ten minutes the drummer tried to gather his thoughts. What did he get himself into? Does God have to punish him like that? He didn't do anything wrong, he just wanted to spend his vacation with his family. He apparently was not allowed to live in a holy peace.

”Who are these people at all? ” Schneider shifted restlessly on the couch where he sat between Oliver and Richard. The storm outside the windows was over. The smell of rain and pervasive darkness remained, but thunder could still be heard in the distance. The lounge had a rather pleasant atmosphere. Only the sconces on the walls were shining and a small lamp standing on the dresser next to the TV set warm light.

”It's an association. Apparently, the police have been interested in them for many years. The prosecutor's office has determined that they have links with arms dealers, have their cells in many countries around the world. ” Till explained calmly, but Christoph did not calm down at all. Cold sweat poured over him.

He wasn't sure if it was the beginning of the disease or nerves.

”And… what do they basically want from us?” Schneider pressed himself gently into the couch, and his wet back stuck to his shirt.

”Specifically? Apparently our heads. Or us alive.” Till briefly explained to Christoph that he had been summoned to the prosecutor's office to explain after the last tour, which caused a lot of controversy in Europe. Until now, the band thought they were untouchable, but apparently this has changed. The prosecutor announced that many complaints about disturbance of public order had been received. When Till said that this was just a show and everything was carefully directed, the prosecutor was not convinced. He said a certain group of anti-LGBT people known for terrorizing sexual minorities had issued a judgment on Rammstein. The group is very dangerous, has people everywhere, and has access to weapons and pyrotechnics.

Till tried to calm Schneider down, saying he had testified after someone had punctured his car tires in the morning and someone was breaking windows in Oliver's house. The police was already working and have set up a special elite group dealing with similar matters, but this may take time. And for that time, until everything calms down, it would be best to disappear out of sight somewhere. For their own safety.  
Schneider didn’t want to agree. Rammstein has repeatedly shocked not only Europe and the whole world. Few years ago in the USA Till and Flake spent the night in jail after singing Bück Dich, but fortunately everything ended well. Schneider said that after making the Mann Gegen Mann video, no one threatened anyone or smashed the windows, but Till interrupted him saying that times were changing and then they were lucky.

”What can we do in this situation? Can we apply for protection? ”

”Christoph, we're not politicians, the police are busy and don't have time to look after our asses. We don't have such privileges. ” Till responded.

Flake decided to join the conversation.

”What about the witness protection program? ”

”Are you a witness? Security won't help us, THEY know where we live.”

Richard, Paul and Oliver were sitting in silence. Side by side. Together.

Flake still didn't give up. He never give up.

”They don't know where Richard lives.”

”They may know soon enough. Even in the company of security there is a possibility that someone will shoot us. Some sniper maybe. Or put an explosive charge under someone’s car. In world there are still countries where there is no tolerance for the LGBT community. And we provoked people.

  
Schneider decided to show Till what mistake he had made.

”After all, it was your idea that Richard and Paul would kiss at the end of Aüslander.”

Till knew Schneider was right. Rammstein has been crossing the lines in his message for years. Cannibalism, macabre, grotesque, references to wars, incest. It finally had to end badly. Till has always wanted to fix the world. Make him better. And he tried to convey it in the texts. Unfortunately, not everyone understood the message. He knew that people have power and together they could change many things. All you have to do is want it.

”I wanted to do something good for people, okay? I didn’t expect such things to come out of it. As usual, Rammstein is supposed to fix the world and as usual, there are only problems.’’ He said.

Flake noticed that and he out a hand on Till’s shoulder which made him a little bit smile.

”And so we did a lot, people are grateful to us.”

”But others now hate us.” Schneider said.

”Can you imagine that there are places in the world where being a person with different views is illegal? People don’t have any rights, they must hide in their own homes. They can die every day because some men are in love with other men or some women are in love with other women. Remember what happened in Europe a few years ago when TATU girls started their business? It was a revolution. And we as a team have a large scope. We can work. And as long as we can work, we will do everything to make the world better!” Till almost shouted.

Paul and Richard were still sitting in completely silence. They knew Till was right.

Schneider was the only one who tried to rebel.

”Okay, I totally get it. We can try to change the world, yes. But not for the price of our lives, for God's sake! You know what? I’ll tell you something. I have kids. Little kids. I have wife. I don't want to die.”

Richard, with Paul faithfully sitting at his side, silenced Schneider with a wave of his hand and began his speech.

”In my opinion, you are exaggerating a bit.” He cleared his throat. ”You are panicking. Not necessary. How many times have we played this number? Ten? Fifteen? I think maybe more. We did it in Moscow and nothing happened. We did it in Germany and nothing happened. We did it in Poland and nothing happened. People are tollerant. We can't be intimidated by some idiots from nowhere."

”Kruspe, you idiot, it's not where we did it, but what we did. The internet has coverage. The media showed your and Paul's kiss. Maybe years ago after the USA incident we should stop? We overacted. We played with fire for so many years that we finally overacted.” Till said and he stood up. ”The one thing is clear, we have to dissapear for a while. We leave tomorrow morning. We have a private flight. No public airports, no card payments, no leaving marks behind. No login on social media. We cut ourselves off from the world.”

”What will we tell our fans?” Ollie asked.

  
Till raised his shoulders.

”Nothing. They know that after the tour we deserve a rest. They will not ask what we do.”

”We can always say we went fishing naked. Where are we going? Some exotic island?” Richard tried to cheer everyone up.

”I’d totally like to climb on Polish and Slovak Tatra mountains. Have you seen the mountains there? They’re beautiful and wilde.” Paul dreamed, and moved closer to Richard’s warm side.

Flake protested.

”Two weeks in the tent? I can not stand this. Not with you.”

”He’s right. Besides, we are not prepared to survive in the wilderness.” Oliver said. ”What about tropic islands?”

Till growled.

”These will be the first places where they will start looking for us. We can't fly a private plane that far, small jets don't have that range, and we can't leave traces at airports. Anyway, the police have already chosen a place that is safe and secure. So no forests, no mountains, no lakes, no wilderness. We go where no one expects us. Get some sleep, because We won't be here tomorrow. We’ll be gone.”


	5. A little death...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just... Paulchard.

Six men's silhouettes, bathed, in pajamas or tracksuits and slippers seethed in the living room with lots of pillows and duvets in their hands. Richard had to split his guests and put them to sleep. He decided it would be best if Till and Flake took a couch in the living room and Paul would sleep in Richard's bedroom. However, another problem came up. Schneider did not intend to share the second bedroom with anyone, so Oliver was left without a place to sleep. Richard remembered that somewhere in the closet in the hall a deep-air mattress was pressed in. He dug out the mattress and carried it to Oliver to pump it.

”I hope that's enough for you. It's not too big, but you should fit in.” The guitarist said. ”I'll bring you a duvet and a warm blanket.”

Till looked unhappy with Schneider's attitude. Since the drummer arrived, he was still causing problems and responding to everything with an attack. Schneider was tedious but behaved extremely obnoxiously on that day.

”I don't understand why you can't sleep with Oliver.” Till was surprised. ”Don’t act like a brat, he’s your friend. Will you let him sleep on an uncomfortable mattress?” He asked angrily.

”In fact, the mattress is not that bad. I can handle it, the night will pass quickly.” Oliver spoke from the floor, forcing Till to look down; Oliver was able to adapt to all conditions, making team work easier. He always stayed aside, didn't complain, just did what others told him to do. Like a good child. Till always was so proud of him.

”Oh, let me explain it to you. Maybe because… there is only one bed in this bedroom!” Schneider shouted.

”Stop yelling at me, shut up and go to sleep.” Till growled.

***

Schneider slammed into his bedroom. Half an hour later, despite Till's explicit order, which ordered everyone to go to sleep, Richard stood in front of the bedroom wardrobe and took out various clothes from it. Paul lay on the bed and watched with fascination as the guitarist wondered what he should take on the journey. Richard opened the closet door and Paul saw a lot of leather jackets. Most of Richard's clothes were black, tight and all the jackets had metal elements. Richard basically had more clothes than any woman that Paul knew.

Outside the windows it was still thundering. The storm was slowly beginning again. Paul wondered if it would stop raining by morning. He didn't like flying in such harsh conditions.

Suddenly Richard knelt next to the bed, broke Paul out of his thoughts. He pulled out a suitcase from under the bed and moved it next to the wardrobe.

”I have no idea what to wear. Till said I have to take warm gear like some jackets and long-sleeved shirts.”

Paul was still lying in silent, keeping his eyes on Richard.

The bedroom was cozy. It had a large wardrobe with a mirror, a dresser, a smaller TV set than in the living room, and two bedside tables with two lamps. The walls were painted dark gray, except for the one by which the bed stood. Big, metal and… gothic. It was comfy as fuck.

”Didn't he say where we are going?” Paul asked and broked the unpleasant silence.

”No. He still keeps it secret. Don’t worry Paul. We will see tomorrow. Can I take it?” Richard asked and showed Paul black jeans with a few spiked leather belts on it.

Paul swallowed saliva. These are the pants. Those damn tight pants. The ones in which Richard looks so good. In fact, it made no difference, for Paul Richard always looked good. Even in this awful feathery something he wore during the 2019 tour and he looked like a chicken.

”Okay, I take this, and some black T-shirts. I think that's enough.” Richard put the clothess into the suitcase, then closed it. He collapsed onto the bed next to Paul and turned the lights off.

Paul freezed when Richard accidentally touched his thigh.

”Oh, I’m sorry.” Richard smiled. ”Could you move a little bit I don’t have space enough.”

”Uhm, yeah.” Paul moved a little to the left.

Richard fell on the pillow and sighed with a pleasure in his voice. Paul definitely noticed that and cleared his throat.

”Schneider behaves like a moron. I know that sometimes it's hard to live with him but this time he really pushed the border.” Richard said. Paul agreed with quietly ”_mhm_.”

Paul didn't want to talk about Schneider or how the drummer behaved, treating Oliver very badly. The only thing he was thinking about was that he’s in one bed with Richard and he feels strangely uncomfortable. They were close friends. They slept on the bus many times during the tours or in one hotel room, but they had never been in bed together. A pleasant feeling of warmth and safe surrounded him when he was next to Richard. Tt was quite dark in the room, but the sense of that Richard was next to him only in his boxers was terrifying and… hot?

”Maybe I should give Oliver a bed and go to sleep on this mattress? What do you think about it? ” Richard turned on his side and looked at Paul.

”W-what?” Paul asked with absolutely no clue what was Richard talking about.

The guitarist was lying next to him and he was almost naked.

They had many different situations together, but now suddenly Paul realized that Richard's presence was important to him. He shook himself. He explained it all to exhaustion, nerves and late hours.

”I just asked you about something. Are you listen to me?” Richard pulled himself closer to Paul.

”Can we just… sleep? Please, I’m tired as fuck.” Paul asked calmly.

”Yes, of course. But I have to do one thing before we fall asleep.”

Fear tightened Paul’s throat. Fear of that unknown feeling that has entered him since he came to Richard today. He spent the whole day the guitarist trying to pretend that everything is normal. He didn't understand what was happening to him.

Suddenly a mighty thunder cut the sky and Paul jumped hitting Richard.

”Sorry, I didn't expect it.” He said embarrassed. In the dark he noticed that Richard was smiling. Then he saw him jumped out of the bed. ”Where are you going?”

”I have to lock the pantry.”

”Why?”

”Look. I have hot peppers and various tomato products like preserves. It’s mine, only mine and I don’t want Till to eat that.”

Richard noticed Paul didn't understand it. There were no divisions in the band, everyone shared different things with each other.

”If he farts all the tenement will blow up.”

Paul cried out with laugh and collapsed onto his pillow, still laughing loud.

”Hey, this is not funny. It's an old house, gas pipes are leaking.”

”Just… come back and lay down with me. We have to sleep. Please.”

Richard gave up his idea and went back to bed. He covered himself tightly with the duvet. He closed his eyes.

”Paulchen?”

”Yes, Richard?”

”Have a good night, I love you.”

”Yeah, I love you too, you fucking idiot.”


	6. Into you

The sounds of rain woke him up in the middle of the night. A strong wind was blowing outside the window, but the thunder was gone. He reached for the phone.

**23:49**

He only slept more than two hours. He had nightmares in which he dies. Someone shoots him and he dies in front of his bandmates. Blood is everywhere. He catches the last breath. Yelled for the last time and then… silence. Just silence. Nothing more. No fear, no pain. Only silence and darkness.

The whole house was dark, but when he turned to the other side he noticed that the hall was in a soft light, probably coming from the kitchen. He decided to go to see who couldn’t sleep at night. On the way he almost stepped on sleeping Oliver. He had completely forgotten about him.

He peeked into the kitchen carefully, when Flake was standing by the large window and watched the rain outside patiently. Flake knew Till was watching him, but he didn't move.

Till entered the kitchen and took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water.

”_Denn die Todten reiten schnell_.” Flake said.

”What?” Till opened his eyes wide and lost his tongue. The words he heard made him feel fear. It was the weirdest, most terrifying night of his life, and morning was inevitably approaching. This time everything could end up just wrong. Flake’s words made Till feel even worse.

”The dead people travel fast.” Flake repeated slowly turning his head and looking at Till. ”Did you sleep bad?” He asked.

”I slept very badly, because Oliver snores terribly. I can't stand it. He should have a nose job.”

”Bullshit.”

After so many years of living together, Flake learned that Till is not the same person as he is on the stage. He has a delicate, emotional side. He can show fear, but he doesn't want to. Till could be scared, although it seemed to everyone that a man like him, a bear-like guy, was immortal and there was nothing he could be afraid of.

”You can't sleep because you're scared. You want to protect us all your life, but just say it; you are in fear now.” Flake said. He knew that Till is a very emotional person, he always cares for people around him and wants the best for them. Like now.

”This time we went a step too far. I am afraid that we will regret this, but the rest cannot know it. They need a leader. Someone who will push them forward.” Till responded.

”We are together. We'll go through it together. Go back to sleep.”

”What about you?”

”Don't worry about me. Just go to sleep. And don't step on Oliver.”

***

Paul was awakened by a strange muffled sound coming from behind the wall, like a buzzing or something. He got up on his elbows and glanced at the TV set-top box on the dresser. It was 3:26 AM. The room was empty. Paul felt alone, with no friend by his side. Cold air was coming in through the open door to the bedroom, which meant that Richard probably went out on the balcony to smoke.

Paul left the room and followed the source of the strange sound. The buzz was coming from the bathroom. When he came inside, he saw Till kneeling over the bathtub. The singer had just shaved his head and looked exactly like in _Rosenrot_ video.

Paul was used to the fact that Till was rapidly changing his image, but he didn't expect anything like that.

”Hey, what the hell are you doing?” The guitarist asked.

Till put the razor on the washing machine and got up from his knees.

”I just shaved my head.” Till acted like he wasn't doing anything strange. Paul was slightly shocked.

”Well, but for what? Should we do it too?”

”I think no. You look pretty normal. Except for Richard, but he never looks normal. You know what? Someone should wake Schneider. He's still asleep and he has to shave off this idiotic mustache. Or… I’ll do it by myself”

Paul had to admit it was a good opportunity for Schneider to actually do it.

”We have forty minutes to eat, get dressed, take our packages and go downstairs. A special car will be waiting for us. Like I said; no taxis, no traces. We have fly at five.”

Till went to wake Schneider up and tell him great news about his mustache. As Paul passed through the corridor into the kitchen, the air was cut by a scream.

”Noooo!” The drummer shouted, but Till was adamant by the protests.

”Shut the fuck up and just go, do it.”

”No! I’m not gonna do this!”

”Don’t make me pissed off, Schneider.”

”No. No chance.”

”Jesus. DO IT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

A few seconds later, Schneider humbly left the bedroom and went to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Paul entered the kitchen where Oliver was finishing his breakfast at an extremely early time. Flake prepared coffee in large thermoses for everyone for the trip. As Paul thought - Richard was on the balcony, smoking.

Paul made a quick sandwich for himself and started eating. Then Richard came into the kitchen.

”Oh, somebody is hungry here.” He said with a big smile, which made Paul's stomach twisted.

Richard was wearing THIS black jeans with a chain on right side, and a grey T-shirt with no prints. And spiked his hair. Paul loved this look. He loved everything about Richard. And he realised that. He thought he was still dreaming. Yeah it's just a dream, and when he wakes up it will all be as before. It's just Richard. He'd seen him about a million times in the last twenty-five years. What happened now?

”Did you make us coffee? How nice of you.” Richard said.

Flake raised his eyebrow.

”Because I'm a nice man, but you don't see it. Or you don't want to see.”

Till entered the kitchen and calmed Flake down.

”Shhh, it's okay now. We love you.” Till kissed his head and laughed.

Paul slowly swallowed a bite of the sandwich. Everything was getting weird! They were acting weird. He wasn’t sure about Richard. At first, Richard seemed to behave as always. But now he was definitely teasing Paul. Why did he dress like this? He could wear a tracksuit or something equally comfortable. He put on the black jeans for which Paul goes crazy. Paul affirmed that if Richard put on one of his leather jackets, it would be a total disaster.

It took him about 10 minutes to eat. He was really hungry but couldn’t swallow anything. The sight of Richard walking in the kitchen right in front of his eyes made him feel a lump in his throat. Oliver tried to talk to him several times, but Paul was deaf to everything. Till saved him from public supervention in a state of excitement because he tell Richard to carry all the luggage to the exit door, and Richard left the kitchen.

Schneider entered the room. Bathed, dressed in a black T-shirt, dark pants and he had no mustache. He was not pleased. Without a word he took a box of a meal he had previously prepared for himself and sat down next to Paul.

Till looked at his watch.

”Okay, children. Time to dress up, if someone has to go to the toilet, I advise you now, because then there will be no time. We're leaving in fifteen minutes.”


	7. Maybe it's a little unfair?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...you just can't escape when you're in the clouds...

_It won't be so bad, you'll see, it won't be so bad_, Till told himself, breathing deeply. - _We'll get there, Schneider will stop acting like a moron and everyone will be happy. Somehow we will survive these few weeks, return to Germany and start working on the next album._

Everyone was so stressed that no one dared ask any questions. Oliver was sitting somewhere in the back with Flake in complete silence, staring out the window. Paul slept next to Richard. The morning was sunny, the sky was blue with no clouds. No sign of that awful Berlin storm.

The flight lasted only an hour, and two and a half more to the final destination. Fortunately, the flight was direct. Till was busy reading the book about the traditions of priests and monks so he didn’t notice that Schneider was watching him with serious face.

_You'll see, it won't be so bad_, Till told himself again, though with much less conviction this time. The closer they got to their goal, the more doubts Till had.

”Will you finally tell me where are we going?” Schneider asked, snatching Till out of the deep reflection he had fallen into while reading his book. He looked up lazily and noticed that Schneider's face was expressing dissatisfaction.

He sighed. Say or not? It would be fair to say. As if on cue, the other three heads turned to the singer and also waited for an answer. Till was a bit confused.

”I've asked you this before, but you said I'd find out when we're on our way. Why?”

”I just didn't want you to run away. Now you have nowhere to run, so I'll tell you. We're going to Romania.”

Schneider's eyes widened. He smiled nervously for a moment, like he didn't understand what Till had told him, until he literally barked:

”W-what the fuck?!”

Richard and Oliver were speechless. They stared at each other and couldn't say a word.

”I knew it was serious.” Flake snapped.

”Oh come on! You complain and complain! It is not up to me, this place was chosen by the services. Nobody will look for us there. Understand this.” Till responded and came back to his book. He hoped for silence. Unfortunately, not everything went as he wanted.

”Can I ask you another question? Actually two. First of all, what are we going to do there? And secondly why did you make me shave my mustache? Why did you shave your head?”

Till closed the book. _Just be calm…_

”If I can count, and I think I can, you asked three questions, not two. So I only answer two. You choose.”

”You motherfucker, don't make me angry, just talk!”

Sleepy Paul shifted nervously, his head rested on Richard's shoulder.

”I shaved my head because I was bored! It's my head and I can do what I want with it. And in Romania we will ... just live and spend time together. By the way, I told you to shave off your mustache because you looked like an old man with him.”

”God, if I knew what you're up to, I would never agree to it!” Schneider yelled furiously. ”Do you know how Rammstein is different from prison? If I spent 25 years in prison I’ll be free now!”

When Paul pulsed, Richard decided to silence Schneider.

”Shut the hell up. Paul is sleeping, you will wake him up with your screams!” He warned the drummer. In response, Christoph snorted loudly and crossed his arms.

Till considered the last hour of peace was salutary and he must keep Schneider away from any information. The less he knows, the better for everyone, especially for Paul – he will sleep better.

”I don’t fucking care about Landers.” Christoph growled.

Calm until now, Richard was in a good mood and tried to lift everyone's spirits but the drummer effectively pissed him off. Richard became nervous. He could stand everything, but not the fact that someone doesn’t let Paul sleep.

”But I do care, so like I said, halt die klappe, you idiot.”

Till was glad that at least at this moment he would rely on Richard. Oliver didn’t intend to speak, he just adapted to the situation, and Flake probably knew something before - he guessed. The atmosphere became very unpleasant and nervous again.

Schneider noticed that Paul rested his head on Richard's shoulder and began to ironically laugh.

”How does it feel?” The drummer asked.

There was a dead silence on the plane. Richard frowned and looked questioningly at Schneider, who was staring at him with a strange smile. Before he could answer, Schneider asked another uncomfortable question.

”Do you feel anything special?”

Richard blinked.

”What?”

”The feeling of his skin against yours. His warm breath right next to your neck. Does it feels good?”

Schneider had been scandalous before, screaming, nervous and treating everyone terribly, Till thought he had now crossed a line and he was doing it deliberately to set them by the ears. Till knew that Richard could start a serious fight with Schneider. He had to cut it.

”What do you mean?” Till asked.

”It’s about what is going on between the two of them.” Schneider responsed. ”I'll tell you something, Reesh. Paulchard. Do you know what it is?” 

”I know.” Oliver said.

”Someone will explain to me what the hell you mean?” Richard stopped worrying about Paul and decided to get all the information from Schneider. He felt strange. Fear flooded his body.

Schneider continued with a bitter smile.

”There is such a site. It's called tumblr. It works similarly to blogs. People share things there. And the hashtag Paulchard enjoys considerable interest. Especially on 2019 tour.”

Richard wrote Schneider was talking nonsense. He shook his head and made sure Paul didn't hear it.

”I don't understand anything about it.” He said.

”Where there are two handsome guys, something like shipping appears. Sooner or later. I wonder where the fiction ends and the truth begins. ” Schneider growled.

”Reesh, you should read some fanficition on the internet, they're really good.” Oliver added.

”Fanfiction is shit.”

”Fuck you stupid, Schneider. Rammstein's fandom is creative people. Fanfiction is like writing books. Leave it alone, you are too conservative to understand this.” Till decided to end this uncomfortable conversation and when he looked at Richard, he read silent thank you from his eyes. He returned to reading his book.

The silence lasted only a moment, because Oliver remembered something.

”I once read one story. It was about Richard and Till. The action takes place after the fall of the Berlin Wall.”

”For fuck, long time ago.” Till laughed.

”Do you mean to tell me someone shipped us? As ... a couple?” Richard was in schock and opened his eyes wide.

Oliver nodded.

”Yes. But it was romantic!”

Flake burst out laughing like and idiot.

”Jesus, I'm gonna vomit!” Richard yelled.

”Ollie… I have one important question ... Who was in the back? ” Till asked.

Oliver was a bit confused.

”Wait, does it matter?”

”For me? Yes.”

”Could you just shut up and stop it?!” Richard yelled again and woke Paul up.

”Reesh, are we there yet?”


	8. When Nature calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little trip never killed nobody.

The plane landed at Caransebes Airport as planned a few minutes after 8 a.m. During the flight it would seem that the sky was clear and transparent, almost cloudless, but as soon as everyone left the plane, they almost got lost in the thick fog that suddenly surrounded the airport.

Till was already going to say the canonical "_Here we are_" but he stopped seeing the expression on Schneider's face, which hasn't changed since the drummer arrived to Richard's apartment. He was still wearing the same face "_get away from me_".

The airport was empty. The silhouettes of small planes were delving into the distance, and everything was surrounded by farmland, meadows and green fields. Having recovered the luggage, the band members came down from the airport apron and stopped by the two-lane road, waiting for further instructions.

Schneider was still not sure where Till was actually going to take them. Regardless of where they were going, one thing was clear - they had to travel the distance on foot. There were no taxis and the villagers couldn't be trusted by them, either.

Till didn't intend to reveal himself until they were at a safe distance from the airport. He wanted to make sure that Schneider wouldn't disappear somewhere and wouldn't make a flight back to Germany.

When the drummer was busy sharing his troubling visions with Oliver, Till made sure that the two suitcases he took with him had the right clothes in them.

Till took the map out of his backpack and looked around. He started to count something quietly, which focused the attention of the rest of the band on him.

"We are right here, and we have to be here. South Carpathians, high mountain regions. It will be about twenty kilometres on foot. In this direction, to the east.” He said.

"Are you sure we're not gonna get lost now? There are only fields around here." Paul looked around with a not very interesting face. The morning was sunny and warm, and yet it was accompanied by a feeling of fear.

"You see those mountains in the distance? " Till pointed with his hand the high mountain range that was formed between leafy trees in the distance. It was visible in spite of the fog. "We have to get to them."

"And what is in the mountains? Any hotel? A tourist hostel? Embassy? " Schneider asked.

"You’ll see.” Till answered with a little devilish smile on his face.

They could have chosen a longer way, walking comfortably along the tourist route, passing through several nearby villages, but Till thought that someone might recognize them. Besides, they didn't know the traditions of the local people, neither the language, so they preferred to get through the countryside meadows and go deep into the forest. From there, they had to find a mountain trail and reach their destination.

_Twenty kilometres of the route, with two suitcases each... Piece of cake. Four, maybe five hours away and we'll be there!_

"It's over 2,000 meters. How am I supposed to get there with this?” Schneider pointed to his suitcases.

Paul was overcome by a feeling of insecurity. For the first time he had to agree that Schneider was right. Damn!

"I don't know if you realize that, but at the moment we are at an average altitude of 1,000 meters. It's just a short walk into the mountains, relax. We have the equipment, the weather is good, we go ahead and we don’t stop. Look, we're gonna go through that field and walk into the woods, and then... Then we'll see.” Usually gloomy and depressing to the world, Till has now turned into a true leader and intended to push his companions forward. In fact, push up with small curves along the way, all this accompanied by trees, birds, a summer morning, dew on the grass and general holy peace.

And after a while, the tour with the guide leading Lindemann went briskly through the green field, stepping on various plants, herbs and everything else under their feet. With each kilometer the fog disappeared, however, over the forest visible in the distance, dark clouds began to crowd. The weather started to change rapidly, which was normal in the mountains at this time of year.

Paul felt like he was on a school trip from the past. While he had to admit that for this occasion he equipped himself with military boots and comfortable desert color combat trousers, Richard in tight jeans, leather jacket and laced boots looked pretty funny and every step was a problem for him.

"Your suitcases look heavy. What is in them? "

"I had to equip myself with a supply of cigarettes, alcohol and hair dyes." Richard responded.

Paul blinked. Twice.

"Yeah… It's a good thing we had a private flight, because they wouldn't let you on a normal plane with tons of cigarettes and bottles full with alcohol.”

"To be honest, I think I've exceeded the limit.”

"Do I hear the sounds of conversation? Don't waste your oxygen on meaningless conversations, focus on the march." Till turned his back and spared no words to bring both guitarists to order. "Save your strength or you will need it." He added in a quiet voice, making sure no one could hear him.

After a while, they walked among the trees, which in some places created arched vault over the road and they moved under it like in a tunnel. They were accompanied by huge, gloomy rocks. Although they were shielded from the wind, as walked in the valley they could hear it; it was blowing from with ever-increasing force, wail and roar among the rocks, and the branches of the trees were banging over their heads. The further away in the forest, the colder and darker it got.

Schneider saw through the eyes of his imagination this luxurious hotel built somewhere high on the top of the mountains. It certainly has a swimming pool somewhere in the basement, plus a sauna, jacuzzi and all the other conveniences. And a bar! With lots of colorful drinks to choose from. Comfortable bed, mountain air, melancholic atmosphere and silence. After deeper reflection he said that if it looks like this, he is able to spend the next two weeks on vacation and maybe even stop complaining? Maybe a pretty maid will wake him up every day?

_Good morning, Mr Schneider, you ordered a wake-up call for eight._

_Hello, Mr Schneider, would you like a towel?_

He had already seen himself lying on a lounger by the pool, with the sounds of splashing water, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a wolf howling somewhere in the distance.

Richard stopped suddenly and Paul, following him, literally bumped into his back and dropped his luggage.

"It was a wolf! " Richard screamed.

"It was only a wolf. " Till spoke up, not interrupting the march. Flake and Oliver followed him humbly. Both of them didn't care much about the sound they heard.

"And don't scream, we're in the woods. Shut up and admire the nature." Till ordered.


	9. I feel like I'm drowning

During the exhausting journey, it is only a matter of time before someone complains. Nothing like eating immortal hard-boiled egg sandwiches on the road.

The road seemed endless. The weather in the mountains changed rapidly and the rain slowly started to fall from the dark clouds. The innocent chirping of the birds turned into the murmurs of the storm, and the summer breeze turned into a violent wind, which carried the crowns of trees.

Schneider said that if snow fell from the sky, he would leave the team, return on foot to the airport and catch the first plane to Germany, on the way calling his wife and begging for forgiveness. After all, he said he would come back, he promised her that. And now he's in the middle of a dark forest, high in the mountains, in a country at the end of the world. Far away from his family, with five idiotic friends who had been making his life miserable for 25 years.

Despite the difficulties, everyone was pushing upwards from time to time, interrupting the climb with some kind of quarrel. But all this time they climbed higher and higher and higher, and Schneider looked around with worry in search of his dream hotel. A hotel full of pretty maids, hot towels, bubble pools and champagne.

"Could you stop for a moment? I think I have something in my shoe." Schneider stopped and stood in the middle of a rocky mountain trail.

The trip also had to stop, with Till in the lead, who seemed tired and dissatisfied with Schneider's moods. Meanwhile, the drummer shaken an extremely intrusive stone from his shoe.

An hour later, Schneider, busy with ideas about a fantastic five-star hotel, did not notice that they had finally arrived against a large castle. In the dark, the courtyard seemed to be very large, but because there were several dark arched passages there, he seemed bigger than he really was.

Till stopped by a huge, age-old gate, pierced with big iron studs, set in a massive stone portal.

Schneider stood silently, not moving, because he didn't know what to do now. He expected a mountain resort, and found himself against a medieval castle, which in his opinion was older than Berlin.

"We're here. Before we go inside, we have to change into this." Till unfolded one of the suitcases on the grass and opened it, pulling something out of it that made Schneider's stomach flip.

"Could you tell me why we dress up in some rags before we enter the mountain hostel?!" Schneider yelled at Till.

"Okay, let me explain this to you. This is not a hostel. It is a monastery. And we will live in it for the next few weeks, until the servants take us back to Germany. You will be polite, you will wear it and you will behave as I tell you." Till growled at him back.

The drummer opened his mouth.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I think we have already decided that this is not a joke. This is a serious situation, Christoph. Stop acting like a jerk and do what I tell you to do.”

"Instead of assigning us bodyguards in some private residence, they just threw us into a monastery?!" Schneider's shock from breathing fresh air was gone and he was returning to his behaviour again.

"And are you some kind of president to have privileges in the form of bodyguards and a private residence? Don't make me laugh." The conversation was joined by Paul, who was so silent until now.

"Shut up, Landers! After all, you don't have a clue about the habits of the monks, Till. Are you crazy?!”

"Hey!" Richard barked at Christoph. "Don't you dare to talk to Paul like that!"

"Shut your fucking face, Kruspe!" Schneider growled back.

"Both of you shut up. I've read a book about monasteries." Till answered with confidence.

"Wow, that's a lot." Richard laughed and threw his luggage on the ground.

"25 years of experience of image creation will allow us to blend in with the crowd. The rules are simple, we only have to do what the prioress tells us to do. That's all.”

"Well, pray over and over again, keep silent, pray, keep silent, and do your job again. I used to read an article on the Internet about life in a monastery. It's nothing like that. They pray in the morning, then they work, everyone has their own activities, then they pray again, and after dinner they remain silent. Yes, we can do it.” Oliver, as usual, accepted his fate and decided not to rebel against Till. "The most important thing is that we are here together to support each other.”

"Oh how sweet. You know what? Take these scout lyrics about friendship and stick it up to your ass.” The drummer snorted angrily on Oliver.

"Silence! I told you what to do, so do it with no moaning!” Till ordered.

The expedition moved to the nearby bushes to change their clothes, without making the passers-by uncomfortable, although at this time and in such high mountains they could not expect anyone.

Richard unzipped his jacket and carelessly threw it to the ground, and Paul's sight went straight to him.

Starting from the black shoes to the north, sight stopped on his hips. Not bad, not bad at all. A bit higher, a gentle plain stretched out, followed by a clear change of landscape. And here eyesight stopped for longer. A muscular chest, pinned under a grey shirt.

"Do they know who we are?" Flake asked with a slight anxiety in his voice. The vision of pretending to be a priest was clearly beginning to overwhelm him.

"Of course not. So don't leave the role even if I don't know what was going on. Think of it as something like Rosenrot." Till said. He never complained about the low temperature but as for August it got cold, and standing in pants only could be a bit uncomfortable. He was shocked by the cold spasm.

"We look basically the same." Paul looked at his habit and glanced at the side, where Richard stood in the bushes only in his underwear. He stated that he had seen it in his life hundreds of times already and could have seen it again and again, but his imagination was interrupted by Till's screaming.

"Kruspe, hurry up and finally put this cassock on your ass, damn it! Sister Berengaria is waiting for us and we have to say hello to her. Behave yourselves, as befits a priest." Everything seemed so simple. So easy. They got to Romania, found their destination, dressed up and didn't even look bad. Although it's been fourteen years since Rosenrot was filmed, Till was surprised to admit that his clothes fit perfectly.

_It was because of the nerves. When a man is nervous, he will lose weight._

"How are we gonna get inside?" Oliver looked at the gate. There wasn't even a trace anywhere or any kind of bell or knocker. He also had no hope that their voice would be able to penetrate the thick gloomy walls, and the windows were nowhere to be seen. Okay, maybe Till's voice, but still...

"They'll know we're here. Don't worry about that." Till said with calm. He looked relaxed. It was weird for all.

  
"He has already entered his role. From now on it will only get worse." Richard sighed.

"I fucking hate all of you!" Schneider yelled desperately.

"Don't worry, Reesh. It's gonna be fun." Paul grabbed Richard's hand.


	10. The pain is good for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the sin begin...

As they traveled by plane, Flake noticed that Till was reading a book about the customs of the monasteries and the life of the clergy, he was almost sure where the whole trip was going, but he was hoping to the very end that he was wrong. Unfortunately, the twenty-five years of his teamwork sentence did not let him down once. In fact, he wasn't even surprised. Ever since they arrived at Richard's apartment, Till has been very mysterious and nervous. Flake read his moods perfectly. But the last thing he expected was to hide somewhere in the remains of a medieval castle and now the seat of monks, priests, nuns and everything that wore dresses.

One thought was still in his head. He decided to share it with Till before the gate opened.

"Do you really think that no one will recognize us here?"

"Do you think that nuns have nothing to do but sit in front of the TV from morning to night and watch music videos on mtv? Even if our music videos are still broadcast after 10 p.m., and then nuns are usually asleep." Till didn't feel any irony in Flake's question, so he answered him straight from his heart, exactly as he thought he did. It was only after a while that he realized that Flake was trying to get him under his skin.

Richard was shocked by the fact that he knew where he was and the blood was circulating in his brain again faster. Paul's presence gave him courage and made him not feel like the last loser.

"Lindemann, do you know what globalisation is? I don't want to interrupt this scene, because you know, the forest, the mountains and the old castle, but damn it heavy, Rammstein is a very global phenomenon! And I can bet that at least one nun from that monastery has heard about us or seen our faces.” Richard said.

Till, after a moment of reflection, thought that he hadn't expected one thing, but since the services directed them here, they certainly know what they are doing and the average age of nuns must be more than 60 years. That would be very safe! In his book he read that there are usually no TVs in the religious orders, and even if there are, monks only watch news to know what the political situation in their country is like. Besides, they cannot use the Internet, because the purpose of their journey is to serve God and work, because, as we know, work ennobles.

"Don't worry about it, no one will recognize us without makeup and stage outfits." Till said with peace in voice. He naively thought that if he remained calm, the rest of the band would stop panicking. _Only peace can save us. The ground is to blend in with the crowd, do what others say and listen. And pray. We have to pray a lot to keep all this from coming out, because if it does, we will be over._

"Is that what you think, Till? Don't be offended, but your face is so characteristic that it's hard not to be recognized.” Flake spoke with irony.

"I did the best I could. I shaved my head, what else can I do?" Till asked.

Schneider, standing in his cassock and tastefully chosen hat on his head, felt that he had enough. How did it happen that he let himself be drawn into all this? He really loved the band, but sometimes he wanted to murder them with cold blood and then enjoy freedom. His passion for playing and creating music, combined with a grumpy character and the whole situation, started to rouse in him like champagne in a shaken bottle. Schneider knew that the cork will fire.

While Till and Flake were discussing the possibility of setting their true identity, Schneider watched Oliver, who had already entered his role and listened calmly to the conversation. That made him mad. Oliver has always stayed out of the way and never discussed the decisions Till made. While Flake and Paul were the voice of reason and Richard turned everything into a joke, Oliver never objected. And that annoyed Schneider. He could have at least once solidarityed with his colleagues and rebelled against Till. But not at all!

_That's right - Landers._ Schneider expected Paul to say something, but Paul was busy holding Richard's hand and telling him that everything would be fine, that everything would work out, that they had to support each other and act together. Schneider felt that he was weak. For the hundredth time that day. And that he needs a blood pressure measuring device because either the mountain air damaged him or he has hallucinations and there is something going on between Richard and Paul....

Schneider knew that Paul could be his last resort, so he approached him and Paul suddenly let go of Richard's hand.

"What are you doing? Can I count on you? Are you busy with your boyfriend?” Schneider asked what made Paul nervous. And not only him.

"What do you mean, Christoph? Look, I've patiently endured your snappish remarks about us until now, but it's starting to piss me off, so why don't you just shut up and stop freaking out, huh?” Richard groaned and corrected priestly cap falling off his head. "Fuck, I look like a gay priest in this!”

"You always look gay, what difference does it make?"

"Schneider, if you don't shut up right now..."

"Dear brothers." Oliver, who was silent so far, spoke and put his hands together as if to pray. "Violence is not a solution. You have to love and respect each other. Let us put an end to this hatred.”

Everyone, including Till and Flake, looked at Oliver and they were speechless. Till tired of the tenth round of "They recognize us. - No one will recognize us.” Battle with Flake, looked at him and smiled sluggishly. 

"He's out of his fucking mind." Schneider laughed nervously. "I can't stand it anymore!”

"Stop it at last, for heaven's sake!" Till roared. "Stop arguing and focus. For the last time, no one will recognize us if we stick to the rules. Don't yell at each other, the monks speak quietly and don't curse. Especially not cursing.” Till, like a father, began to admonish unbearable children, who clearly began to play according to their own rules. _Order must be brought here before anarchy spills over the bloodstream_, Till thought. _And Schneider, yeah, somebody should put that rebeliant in his place._

_Breathe... Just breathe. Take a deep breath, Till. Good. And again._

"And remember, you're supposed to look tired. Change those faces because for now each of you has a face as if you were about to shit."

"You're gonna shit yourself if I kick your ass!” Schneider was already getting ready to raise his hand to the vocalist, but Oliver took the drummer by the cassock and pulled him in his side.

"As I said, violence is not the solution." Oliver said.

"Fuck off, Oliver, don’t pull it or you’re gonna ruin it!” Schneider screamed in response.

"We look ridiculous." Flake moaned.

"With these glasses? Surely. " Richard answered with irony.

"I can't see anything without them!" The keyboardist shouted.

Then Till realised something wrong. Something very wrong.

"Jesus Christ, Reesh. You didn't change your shoes!" Till felt he was getting weak.

Richard looked down where his combat boots were sticking out from under his cassock and made a face that was supposed to resemble something like a smile.

"I was so stressed by the situation that I forgot to take them off. Besides, the cassock is damn long, nobody will notice."

Suddenly, they heard the sound of footsteps from behind a big gate, and through the cracks they noticed the approaching brightness of the lamp. Then the clink of a massive slide sounded. With a loud screech clearly indicating that the lock had not been used for a long time, the key was turned and the gate opened.

At the sight he saw, Richard began to rub his tired eyes and pinch himself to make sure he wasn't sleeping or drunk. The longer he stayed surrounded by the rotting walls of the old castle, the more it made an impression on him as a nightmare. For a moment he was joyfully under the illusion that it was a dream and that he was about to wake up in his apartment in Berlin and then stand up, make himself a coffee and light a cigarette. And everything will be normal. Everything will be as it always is. Unfortunately, his body passed the pinch test. He did not dream. And he really was in the Carpathians. With all band.

In the gate stood a short old woman in black habits. Her grey hair was carefully combed under her veil. Her face was wrinkled but cheerful, with a light smile. She was holding a large lantern in her hand. At the sight of six men she smiled more widely.

"Praised be Jesus Christ.” She spoke quietly. So quiet that Richard thought for a moment that he was deaf from the excess of guitar decibels.

"Forever and ever. Hello, sister." Till was the first to regain his voice and nodded his head towards the old nun. The old nun took a bow slightly in front of the men.

"We have been waiting for you since the morning. How was your journey? The road here is difficult, especially after the last rainfall, but I am happy that you arrived safely."

"We're tired, but that's good, we won't have the strength to sin." Paul answered, and Till stabbed him to the side.

"Young man, my hearing is getting worse and worse as I get older, what did he say?" Nun asked, and Till breathed a sigh of relief as if a half-tone plate had been removed from his chest. _And yet the force majeure is watching over us!_

"Sister, the road was long, but we had plenty of time to pray." Till answered with a smile, which looked pretty ghastly in his performance.

"Oh, yes, we prayed all the way!" Schneider added and looked at Richard, who stood like hypnotized, afraid to move from his place. "Especially father Richard prayed for our souls so that we wouldn't accidentally kill each other."

"So that we could happily reach the place!" Till said loudly. "Excuse me, sister, but we are very tired."

Sister Berengaria smiled.

"Of course, it's understandable. Please, come in, your rooms are ready. I will take you to Brother Leonard, who takes care of the traveling friars. You will be able to rest."

Sister Berengaria spoke English well but with a slight accent. With an elegant hand movement she invited the wanderers inside.

Richard still stood like a statue, as if the very sight of a nun turned him into a stone. Till set off first, followed by Flake, Oliver and Christoph. Paul gently pushed Richard forward.

"Come on, we have to go." He said.

When Richard crossed the threshold, something stirred in him.

"We don't have too many comforts here, you know. We lead a modest life. But we will make you feel at home here."

"Like at home?" Schneider repeated, looking carefully around. They walked through the gate and found themselves in the inner courtyard, shrouded in mountain mist and the darkness of the afternoon. A very small amount of light came through the dense trees, which made the atmosphere ghastly. "Like at home." Schneider said once again.

"I think he looks displeased." Paul noticed what made Richard relax a little.

"Yes, he probably expected flames burning sin, the smell of gasoline, open coffins and chains hanging from the ceiling."

"It would be so in our style."

"The coffins are in the style of Marilyn Manson." Paul answered and Richard smiled.

"Indeed, I think Christoph is disappointed."

Through the courtyard, the road led them straight to another door, this time a smaller one, and behind them there was a large staircase.

"It is a very old monastery, built in the 14th century. " Sister Berengaria began her story. "The conditions are strict, but they are enough for us."

"Is it a unisex monastery?" Till asked.

"It is a male monastery, but the nuns come here to help with some of the work. Our monastery is not far from here. On the other side of the mountain there is a small village, people bring us supplies. The inhabitants live here just like they did centuries ago. This globalisation has not reached us, as they say.” Sister smiled, climbing the stairs first.

"Thank God.” Till sighed.

"All those who love the Lord with all their hearts, souls and minds, and love their neighbors as themselves, and hate their flesh with its vices and sins, and bear fruit worthy of repentance - oh, how happy and blessed they are. Letter of the saint Francis to the faithful, chapter one. All the brothers and sisters live in harmony here." She said calmly.

"So do we."Richard noticed.

Schneider snorted.

"You have something wrong with your throat?" Paul asked.

"And you have something wrong with your head?" The drummer growled in response.

When Till heard the sounds of conversation, he apologized to sister for a moment and waited until the three who gave him a headache reached the step on which he stood.

"Can you stop? Listen to what sister says and behave with dignity, because if you don't, I'll kick your ass so hard that you'll see."

"Brother..." Sister Berengaria looked at Till with her eyes full of confuse.

"Just Till. " He answered.

"Please, this way. I will show you your rooms."

The bedrooms weren't big. Inside they had only three beds, a table, a wardrobe and a fireplace. The fire was rumbling deaf in the chimney.

They put their bags on the ground and looked around with sadness, stating that they did not survive such harsh conditions even in 1995, in the worst hotels.

"At night it is cold here, we are in high mountains. I think you want to rest now. At 8pm all the brothers and sisters will meet in the chapel for an evening mass. Join us. After the mass, we will have a supper together, and then Brother Leonard will come to you and show you around the monastery. Listen to him, he is a very wise man. The bathrooms are at the end of the corridor, if you need anything downstairs, there are brothers ready to help, just come and tell us what you need. And now let me turn my back to silence. May god keep you in his care."

"Thank you, Sister." Till said.

Richard, Paul and Schneider took one of the bedrooms. The other one was for Flake, Till and Oliver.

It took them half an hour to unpack their luggage and stuff all the things in one wardrobe, which was not without a fight, because Christoph, as usual, wanted to have a separate shelf. Having heard the sounds of an argument from behind the wall, Till once again had to warn Schneider that he would kick his ass. After this announcement the drummer deserted. Paul looked at the black jeans, combat boots and the usual multi-colored t-shirts and said that if anyone looked into this wardrobe, he would immediately expose them.

He wondered if it would be better to hide these clothes somewhere under the bed, where an old nun couldn't bend down to see, when suddenly he saw that Richard was putting something in his pants pocket under the cassock and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Paul asked, and Richard stopped.

"I'm going to smoke, of course, to some, you know, secluded place.”

"Are you crazy?"

"I can't stand it without smoking."

"You have no choice."

"Oh, come on, Paulchen!”

"Don't shout, because Till will come here again."

"Come with me."

"I'm not going to."

"I don't want to go alone."

"You're not going anywhere."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Hey, you old gay marriage, I don't want my ass kicked because of you. Shut up." Schneider growled at them.

"Shut up yourself. I'm going."

***

Ten minutes later, when Schneider went to the next room to see how the other three arranged, Richard opened the heavy wooden door slightly and literally poured into the bedroom. Paul was busy looking around the outlet, holding a phone and a charger.

Richard came in measure with a strange expression on his face and moaned in pain.

"What happened?" Paul put the charger and phone on his bed and walked over to the guitarist.

"I fell down the stairs. I slipped on wet steps, it's raining outside." Richard said.

"Are you okay?"

"My leg hurts a little, but I'm fine." The guitarist grunted in pain, holding his thigh, but tried to pretend that everything was all right. He didn't want to worry anyone. There was a downpour outside. Tired of flying and hiking, Richard only dreamed of a hot shower and going to sleep. Fuck this whole dinner together and some evening prayers. He just wanted to lie down and sleep.

"I'm exhausted. I'm going to take a shower." He sighed heavily to the closet and took out his towel, shampoo and soap, then went out and went to the bathroom at the end of the corridor.

After fifteen minutes, Richard was still not coming back, so Paul began to worry. Schneider was also still in the next room as evidenced by the sound of conversations from behind the wall. Paul decided to go and check if everything was fine. He crossed the long and dark corridor lit only by lanterns hanging from the ceiling. He carefully pushed the door open and came in. The bathroom, or basically the bathhouse, was a large room, divided into two parts. There were no more doors there, only stone walls not reaching the ceiling, separating individual showers. The sound of pouring water and puffed steam led him straight to Richard, who with his still wet hair was leaning against a stone wall. Water and blood flowed into the drain. Paul noticed a large wound on Richard's muscular thigh. He was naked. And he was bleeding.


	11. Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is still injured, Paul wants to help him a lot and Schneider is just.... Schneider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! The text contains descriptions of brutal scenes!

_I'm struggling with my thoughts. I am overcome by various doubts and torments. I have a strange feeling that I do not dare to confess. God help me, if only for those who are dear to me!_

Schneider was surprised to note that neither bedroom has a single power outlet and the slightest trace of electricity. Seeing his confusion, Till explained to him that electrical installations are only in large rooms, which cannot be lit by lanterns or heated by a fireplace. He also read this in a guidebook. Moreover, such old locks, which have not been renovated for centuries, do not have conditions for the installation of electrical installations.

Schneider knew that he had to cope without a phone, without logging in to the instagram and any other applications. He couldn't even send a text message to his wife. And if he wants to call, he has to go to the village mayor, because there are no phones in the houses. The nuns also don't have it.

When Schneider was walking through the dark corridors on the first floor, where there were guest rooms for traveling priests, he looked like an angry bull. He leaned his wide shoulders backwards and stucked his chin to his chest. His dark hair was smoothly combed, emphasizing the cold, blue grey eyes and the big nose that seemed to overtake him.

He crossed the corridor twice, looking into every corner, flying through the cobwebs under the ceiling with his eyes, and found that some nuns are lazy and do not clean up. Schneider hated laziness. In the band, there always had to be a fight about someone's laziness during rehearsal, recording a CD or a music video. Usually this patented lazyness turned out to be Paul, who never hurried, never got upset and had time for everything. While Richard acted like a diva and when he didn't get coffee or cigarettes, he could destroy everything within a kilometer radius, he was a titan of work, which made Schneider want to work. Forcing Oliver to work wasn't necessary, he just followed every order without talking. Flake protested a little, he always had some comments, and Till always had negative visions of all the ideas and believed that "it will not work out". This time Till decided to took responsibility and prove that he was the leader the band expected him to be. He wanted to take care of their interests. Even in a habit. Even with his hair shaved.

Besides the strange omnipresent smell of wetness, which reminded him of the basement of his house, there was a strange disturbance feeling everywhere in the air. All of this was intensified by the silence, the sound of trees and storm from the outside. Schneider wondered if there was even a single lightning rod in the castle, or if the roof would burn at the first lightning.

Schneider also realized there was no mirror in either bedroom. It seemed strange to him, but after a while he calmed down his thoughts.

_Don't look at your body. Beware of sin. Mortify your body. Pain is good for you. The mirror is probably in the bathroom. We are in Transylvania. The habits here are different from those in Western Europe. We'll meet a lot of weird things here. _

He returned to his room, but as soon as he went inside, he immediately noticed that the room was empty, but the fireplace was burning. No trace of Paul or Richard.

"Where did the scumbags go again?" He sighed.

***

"How did this happen?" Paul asked, without taking his eyes off the blood that had mixed with the water, flowing down Richard's thigh. His skin was cracked, forming an oblong wound, like a broken stitch on clothes.

Richard held one shoulder above his head, leaning against a stone wall, while the other rested freely along his body. His head was leaning towards his chest. Richard stood like a statue, a Greek sculpture that came from the master's hand, with all the details of the human body. Pale skin, tense muscles, muscular back and thighs. The pure beauty of the human body.

Paul thought he'd admire it later, but now Richard needs a doctor.

"Reesh, you need help. It's not just any cut, it's a big wound, it needs to be medicated." Paul said.

Richard behaved strangely, as Paul noticed. He decided to find out what was really going on.

"I do." Richard confirmed. "Could you wash my back? I fell on my shoulder and I can't tilt my hand back."

"Of course I can." Paul answered without a second thought. "Where is..."

Richard stretched out his hand as far back as he could with a broken shoulder and gave him soap.

Paul hands started shaking, but he couldn't fall out of the role. He took a deep breath and wet his hands. It was not the first time he had seen Richard without clothes, he had experienced many such moments in various situations, but it had never been so.... intimate as it is now.

When Richard felt a touch on his skin, he twitched impatiently, and a quiet sigh escaped his mouth. He felt chills.

The bath filled with hot steam to the brim. Paul carefully touched Richard's back, trying to focus on any point, but he couldn't. He was still thinking only about two things: Richard stood completely naked in front of him, and was wounded, fresh blood was still seeping from Richard’s thigh. He carefully rinsed the soap off his back and handed him a towel.

"Come on, Reesh.” Paul whispered right to Richard’s ear. "We have to do something about your wound. It doesn’t look good.”

***

Schneider was looking through the things in the closet and found the Paul’s famous blue socks. He said that if someone really looked into this wardrobe, it would be only a matter of time before he could be exposed.

The crowd of thoughts bothered him so much that he tried to do anything but think. What will happen next with the band? What will happen to his marriage? What if these people find them? If they get into the castle, will they go inside and come after them? What will happen to all the fans? Schneider could not answer all these questions, plus the circumstances of nature, the appearance of the castle, all these nuns and nuns hanging around here and there in cloths covering their faces, gave him a headache.

_If I dream about all this, I'll wake up in my own bedroom and find that my wife has made a terrifying joke. It's all a joke._

Suddenly, the door opened with swing, and Schneider jumped instinctively, grabbing his heart. He felt a painful contraction in his chest.

"Hey, Christoph, are you all right?” Oliver appeared in the door. "Come on, we're going to dinner with nuns, Till whines that he's hungry.”

Schneider initially wanted to answer that he don't want to go anywhere, but finally decided that he should eat something too. Apart from this quick meal at Richard's house, some yoghurt on the plane during the flight and a sandwich while climbing up the mountain, he didn’t eat anything.

"Where's Richard and Paul?" Oliver asked while looking around the empty room.

"I don't know, they went out somewhere. Richard is probably looking for some dark corner where he can smoke." He responded, and Oliver smiled. "Wait for me, I’m going with you all.”

***

Richard wearing only a towel tied up on his hips, with wet hair sticking out like in the Mutter's era, slowly followed Paul straight into their bedroom. Paul hoped that they would not meet any lost nunk or prayerful monk along the way. Fortunately, the road was clear.

Paul went into the room and discovered that Schneider was not inside. He was lucky for the second time that day. The room was empty, the lanterns were blacked out. The fire was extinguishing in the fireplace, which meant that the drummer had already left some time ago. Paul turned to Richard standing in the doorstep and gestured to his bed.

"Sit down and I'll go get the wood and medicaments. Don't worry." Paul smiled to him.

"I am not worried at all. I just... I feel pain. I have to look for some painkillers in my luggage." Richard sat down on his bed and croaked in pain.

"I'll be right back." Paul decided to find sister Berengaria and ask her for painkillers and something to wash the wound. However, he was not sure if he should call an ambulance. The wound looked deep and bled heavily.

Paul would be willing to donate his own blood to Richard if only the blood type was compatible. Paul couldn't tell how much blood Richard had lost in the shower because the blood was mixed with water. He also hoped that if this tide leads to a river or a ground, the smell of blood will not bring wild animals to the castle.

When he came down to the ground floor, the castle was in a noise, and all the monks were heading for the room from which the smell of meat and other food was coming out. Paul thought it was lunchtime, so instead of running around the castle and looking for help, he went straight to the kitchen, using his sense of smell. It was a success, because there were a few nuns in the kitchen who happily put portions on the plates and stirred them all the time in large cast iron pots. At Paul's sight, all the sisters stopped doing what they did and bowed, smiling and showing respect.

"Hello, brother. Do you need anything?"

"I need help." Paul mumbled out. "Actually, I need bandages, something to clean the wound, lenos, and painkillers."

The oldest of the nuns shaken her head and the smile on her face gradually faded out.

"Unfortunately, we do not have any painkillers, but we have a first aid kit. Something serious happened?"

"I hope not. But I have to deal with it somehow." Paul thought that in such conditions the only salvation would be a medical helicopter, if he could land anywhere on such a steep mountain and with such a strong wind.

When one of the sisters gave him a handy medicine cabinet, Paul thanked and left the kitchen. When he climbed the stairs, he realized that he had to do everything he could to help Richard, because they can’t call a helicopter - there was no signal in the mountains and the phones didn't work. The nearest phone was at the mayor of the village or somewhere in the rectory in another town.

***

"This meat is hard, undercooked." Schneider groans as he stares at his plate, and Till looks at him with tired eyes, begging for the sun to go down faster and the drummer would go to bed without complaining.

The entire dining room was filled with the sounds of loud conversation. The nuns discussed with the monks, everyone sat together and prayed before the meal.

"The meat is too hard, the rain too wet, and what else? Isn't the air too thick for the lord? Does he want us to order something Thai or Italian? I'll call you, maybe the restaurant is still open." Ironised Till, which made Schneider angry.

"At home, my wife would never bring me undercooked meat. After all, you can get poisoned with it!"

"When I look at all these people, nobody has poisoned themselves yet. You're overreacting." Oliver answered.

_Well, he never complains. If he slept in a barn on hay and there were fleas jumping over it, he'd still think it was entertainment._

Schneider knew that Oliver was unhinged. Whatever happened, Oliver always remained calm and tolerated everything bravely. So he had to look for the victim somewhere else. Till cannot be provoked because he is too exhausted, but....

"What about you?" Schneider turned to Flake.

"What about me?" The keyboardist was surprised and looked at Schneider from above his plate. Flake liked to complain. He always cursed the fact that he was the one to play the doormat role in the band and at concerts he was humiliated and Till could do what he wanted with him. Simulated gay sex or tried to fry him with a flamethrower. But after years Flake got used to it and even had fun with it, but he never admitted it loudly. He accepted his fate. If nature had given him muscles like Till, Oliver would have been a victim. Unfortunately, there is no justice in the world and Flake was a living proof of that.

On the other hand, everyone in the band was perfectly conscious of the fact that every concert, every song to be played in front of the audience, and they have to play their roles as actors, because that's what people expect from them. Fans liked making a sacrifice out of Flake and thought it was funny.

Schneider wasn't laughable.

"You always accept your fate, you couldn't rebel at least once?" The drummer asked the drummer maliciously when he saw Till start to listen.

Flake looked at Schneider with his eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean, Christoph? You've been acting terrible since yesterday. Give it a rest, we're all stressed out enough. We were supposed to take on roles and try to survive this hell." He said.

"I wouldn't call it hell. Everyone is very nice to us." Oliver intervened in the conversation, which again upset Schneider.

"Until now, I thought that Rammstein was a democracy and everyone had the right to talk." Schneider replied.

Till stood up on the chair.

"I know what you mean. You are trying to provoke us into an argument. Now? When should we all support each other? Yes, Rammstein is a democracy, but..."

"No." Christoph definitely interrupted. "It is not democracy, it is an absolute monarchy under the baton of the honourable yonker Lindemann."

"Don't call me that." Till answered nervously.

"Democracy. Yes. Put it in somewhere. In your ass for example!" Schneider yelled.

"Enough. I won't keep telling you how to behave, you're not a child. Actually, you are an old, malicious bastard."

"Are you trying to insult me?" The drummer laughed at the irony.

"You offend us all the time!" Flake growled at him.

"Enough. Shut up and eat. Actually, do whatever you want, but I'm saying you, after dinner we go to prayer together and I don't care about your moods. And after the prayer we will go and say hello to Brother Leonard, whether you like it or not!" Till ordered.

***

Paul went back to the bedroom where he found Richard in his underwear, who had a bleeding thigh wrapped in a towel. The towel had already been soaked in blood. Paul closed the door and walked up to the wardrobe and took the sheet out of it. Then he gave it to Richard.

"Put it on the bed." He ordered.

"What did you bring?"

"Something I can use to help you with."

Paul had no idea where to start, although he attended a first aid training at school when he was young, but it was so long ago....

"I will try to clean the wound first."

When Paul came close to Richard, he smelled the alcohol. Strong alcohol. Whisky, or at least cognac. He looked at the guitarist who watched him from his half-closed eyelids and looked very exhausted, or.... drunk? Maybe both.

"Reesh, were you drinking? You were drinking!" Paul said more than asked. In fact, he shouldn't blame him, Richard was close to a nervous breakdown, because the whole situation stopped to entertain him as soon as he was in front of the gate.

So far Richard thought it was just another trip with a little "we did something that offended people and we had to wait for them to get over it", but he was slowly beginning to realize the seriousness of the problem. And that didn't make him laugh anymore. He was tired, his head was full of terrifying visions and he wondered how long it would take until "these people" finally found them here.

"I had to drink. I had to ease the pain. It's all so unrealistic, maybe if I get drunk, I can take it better." He answered in a hush voice. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?"

Paul lowered his head and smiled lightly.

"No, Richard. I think I'll drink it myself today because I can't stand it soberly, you know?" He carefully took the towel off the guitarist's thigh and looked at the bleeding wound again. The blood started to dry slowly. "It's not as bad as I thought at first."

He took something out of his habit's pocket that Richard had initially considered to be oxidized water. There was pure alcohol in a glass brown bottle without any label.

"I will wash the wound, but it will hurt. Can you stand it? In fact, you have no choice."

Paul sat down on the other side of the bed and grabbed Richard by the knee.

"Put your leg on my thigh. It has to be higher, otherwise the blood will not stop spilling." Paul said and Richard smiled. His head slipped on his shoulder.

Paul put the first aid kit on the bed, which his sisters had given him in the kitchen, and took clean gauze out of it. He unscrewed the cap in the bottle and put on a towel so as not to wet the bed, poured a little bit on the wound, which under the influence of pure alcohol almost boiled.

Richard gave himself a suffocated moan full of pain and Paul's hands shook.

"I know it hurts, but it will help you, trust me."

"I trust you." Richard murmured.

"Hold on a little longer."

He put the leno on the wound, wiping the leftovers of alcohol from Richard's thigh. After a minute the blood stopped seeping. It looked pretty good, but Paul noticed that the thigh is getting a pretty big burgundy bruise. He reached to the first aid kit for a clean bandage and another piece of gauze. He put the worn out and bloody leno one aside, the clean one to the wound, and he started wrapping Richard's thigh with a white bandage.

"How do you feel?" Paul asked, looking at Richard's reaction.

"Dazed. I want to sleep." He murmured.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No. I just want to go to sleep."

"You should take something for the pain."

"Thanks, I've already had a drink." Richard mumbled out.

"No." Paul laughed. "Take this." He gave him a small glass pack of yellow tablets. "Ascorbic acid. It will dilute the blood." Paul sat still for a while, watching Richard blink his eyelids more and more often until he took a deep breath. He fell asleep.

***

_In silence, a thick wax candle burns out. The air is running out, the flame dims. Soon it will go out completely, and then the suffocating scent of wax and the burning wick will spread out. A small group of nuns kneels in front of the altar, praying loudly and their eyes turned to the sky._

_They feel that something bad is coming. Despite the omnipresent fear, the nuns still pray._

_A monk enters the chapel._

_"Sister, they’re here."_

_The oldest of the nuns stands up from her knees and runs behind the clergyman directly under a large grate into the inner courtyard. She knows that the opening of the gate is necessary. If she doesn't, the gate will collapse. She opens the cast-iron locks one by one and, together with brother, tilts the door._

_"Where are they?" A massive man asks the question and holds a machete in his hand. The nun looks to the sides and sees a horde of barbarians with guns, blades and torches in her hands. "We know that you have hidden them here. Give them to us and no one will die."_

_"You have no God in your heart, to act this way." The nun answers._

_The man laughs loudly, grabs the nun by the neck, draws her to himself and slits her throat with one movement. Blood spurts out of the carotid artery and the nun slowly lands on the ground. She dies immediately._

_The barbarians enter the castle and immediately begin to separate. The screaming of dogs, the howling of wolves spreads around and the night is lit up by torches._

_He knows they are close. He feels it. He looks at a closed wooden door, where instead of a lock there is an ordinary stapler, and he knows that this door does not provide any security._

_They are approaching._

_The praying monks and some nuns found themselves in the chapel. Slaughter. Blood gushing everywhere. The nuns give up their faith, they start to run away. They want to save themselves. The men follow them. They catch them on the run. They cut off their stomachs, cut off their limbs. Cut off heads fall down from the stairs, bumping against the stone floor._

_"They are coming. My God, they are really coming!"_

_In the castle there is an echo of rubbish laughter, which suppresses moans and terrible screams. Blood starts to pour into the nearby river in a fast current. It mixes with water. The walls tremble from the inhuman howling. Those who survived the shots, stabs and bleeding out, catch up in the torments next to each other on the cold ground._

_Voices approach the door._

_And he cannot move. There is nowhere to run. He is terrified. Finally, the door falls out of its hinges._

_"I told you we would get you. Kill them and burn the monastery. With those who are still alive!"_

"Oh, my God!" Richard woke up with a loud scream, waking Paul up from his nap and hitting him with his elbow. After Richard fell asleep, Paul decided to rest for a moment and did not know when he closed his eyes. He had no idea what time it was, but when he looked out the window he thought it was not too late; the sun had just gone down.

Richard sobered up enough to know where he was and why he was again.

Paul approached him immediately. He grabbed his shoulders firmly and pressed them against the mattress.

"Take it easy. I am here. You were just dreaming!"

Richard was breathing heavily, trashing himself together in all directions, but Paul strengthened his grip by using his own body.

"Richard, calm down!"

"Am I still here?" Richard asked with tears in his eyes.

"Yes. You are here with me. We are all here."

"Are they all right? Is something wrong?"

"What? No! Till, Flake, Oliver and Schneider went out somewhere, didn't come back yet, maybe they went to eat."

"Oh, God, I had such a terribly realistic dream. I dreamt that these people found us. They found us, murdered everyone, and at the very end they came for us. Then they burned the whole monastery. Jesus Christ."

"Relax, you're safe." Paul said with calm voice.

Richard was shaking. Paul had never seen him like this before. He was terrified.

"Paul, please." He got up, digging out Paul from underneath his body, and he sat down allowing him complete freedom of movement. He pressed his back against the wall. "I was so scared. Paul, I don't want to die. I don't want to."

"Nothing will happen to you, I am here." Paul touched his cheek and Richard literally threw himself into his arms under the influence of emotion. "You are safe with me. We are all here. We have each other. And we are not in any danger." Paul mumbled out, kissing Richard's forehead but he wasn't sure about his words.


	12. Black catechism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider is slowly losing his mind, but still doesn't have the courage to talk to Till about it. In Oliver, demons of man-nature wakes up, which he doesn't know yet, and Till endures the hardships of everyday life with Christoph.  
Richard is still suffering and Paul subconsciously does everything to to be alone with him.

At 3:30 am., a powerful brass bell sounded in the monastery, which called all the clergy to pray together. All members of the band were released from the prayer due to their late arrival and fatigue. In addition, Till explained to Sister Berengaria that they had to acclimatize. Then at five in the morning, the bell rang for the second time, gathering all the clergy for the morning mass.

All the brothers and monks starts the day early at 4 am., with a common prayer and a mass. Afterwards, they spent time at breakfast, having the opportunity to talk. In the afternoon, the great silence begins and during this time nobody can speak to anyone. The brothers contemplate in silence, praying and talking to God.

It was not until seven o'clock in the morning that everyone gathered for breakfast, except for Schneider, who said he was not hungry and didn’t want to leave the room. When he woke up in the morning, the world seemed more transparent and material. When he looked out of the window at the walls surrounding the monastery, there was morning mountain mist everywhere, the air was cool and crisp, water was flowing down the gutters in the night downpour, and gentle rays of sunlight were penetrating through the clouds. A truly mystical climate.

Schneider remembered that when he returned from dinner and the evening mass, which he had spent with the three other members of the band, the room had a strange atmosphere. Richard slept, with a strange bandage on his thigh, snuggled in Paul's arms, who also slept, half lying down, leaning against a stone wall. They spent the night like this until the morning, until they went for breakfast. Initially Schneider naively decided that they both had to be drunk, because they wouldn't sleep in one bed together, cuddled together like a lovely couple. He concluded this after he tripped over a bottle of whiskey lying on the floor. When he picked it up and looked carefully, he noticed that it was half empty, so Richard had to drink a few deeper glasses.

On the table were lying bloody bandages and some mysterious bottle with a transparent liquid inside, which Schneider for fear of poisoning himself preferred not to taste, but still dared to check what was inside after some time. Alcohol. Pure alcohol.

_I'm going crazy! Not only am I stuck in the wilderness far from my own family, with a bunch of people I would like to run away from, I have to walk in a cassock, which is constantly tangled between my legs, there are old nuns and strange hooded people around, the food is horrible, wolves howl outside the windows, and my two friends are most likely having an affair. _

_Is there a doctor in the room?_

He looked at the cross hanging over his bed, although until now he thought that God had never spoken to him. He sat down on the bed and was surprised to note that there was a breakfast tray on the table. The bandages were gone. 

He barely had time to drink coffee when Till entered the room and immediately began to give orders.

"Schneider, haven't you changed yet? It is 7:15, take a quick shower, put on a cassock and come, Brother Leonard is waiting for us to show us around the monastery, at 8 o'clock physical work begins."

Christoph raised his eyebrow with surprise. He pointed to a tray of food.

"Who brought it to me?" He asked.

"What do you think? Paul. I am surprised that after all the words you have said, he still has enough mercy and treats you so well." Till responded.

The drummer gave himself a quiet sigh, then suddenly the rest of the information reached his consciousness. He stood up and looked at Till with disbelief.

"Physical work?" He repeated.

"Yes, we are going to work, Brother Leonard is going to give us responsibilities, so hurry up and go."

On his way to the chapel, where they were to meet Brother Leonard, Schneider repeatedly wondered whether he should tell Till what he saw. But how would Till react?

_They drank a few glasses and, tired, fell asleep next to each other. Simple._

For Schneider, however, it wasn't that simple. For twenty-five years he learned that male friendship can unite people. They did everything together. Like a family, in fact, even closer than a family. The family occasionally goes out somewhere, disappears somewhere, and they were together all the time. They worked together, spent their free time together, drank together, sobered together. Oh, yes, there were wild parties! But he didn't remember anyone waking up by someone's side. Usually they would wake up in their own beds, possibly on the floor.

Throughout the whole period of playing in Rammstein, Christoph witnessed various situations. There were quarrels, common grievances, common cries and moments of joy, but one thing couldn't get out of his head – Paul was always close to Richard. Always. From the stage to the hotel room booking, Paul and Richard always had a room next to each other, sometimes a shared room, if they couldn't book individual rooms.

Schneider thought about it for a moment. At first they both hated each other, they couldn't cooperate together. At every rehearsal they were fighting and when the work on Herzleid was going on, Till was close to a nervous breakdown by these two and was sure that the band would fall apart. Luckily, the two gentlemen made a deal soon and the band could continue to develop their careers.

Photo shootings. Richard next to Paul.

Video clips. Oh, so many things happened here....

During the shooting of Haifisch, the director came up with the idea that the wake would end with a big fight between all the members of the band. Richard fought Paul, but it was difficult to shoot the scenes because they both couldn't focus on it, while Oliver had no problem hitting Schneider.

Rosenrot – In the whip scene Richard was standing next to Paul.

Radio – Richard was standing next to Paul.

Deutschland – In one of the last scenes Richard greets Paul warmly.

Schneider said that if he didn't stop thinking about it, his head would explode from too much emotion. He thought that when he implemented his new priesthood duties and was maximally focused on playing his role credibly, the strange and intrusive thoughts would disappear from his head. Unfortunately, his mood was noticed very quickly.

Till was a very careful observer and nothing escaped his attention.

"You're strangely quiet today. Did something happen?" He asked with fatherly concern in his voice. He wasn't curious, he just liked to know if anyone needs help or conversation. His long-standing friendship with Richard taught him that sometimes the ones who create the impression of normal behaviour and normal life suffer the most. And because Schneider was behaving too suspiciously, Till gained additional doubts that the situation was even more serious if Christoph did not even try to pretend that everything was okay, and instead he kept walking around thinking and reacting aggressively to any attempts to make contact.

Till sighed and said that it would be simpler to make a deal with an alien who came to Earth to explore the civilisation.

"Christoph?"

When the drummer turned his head, Till stared at him with an expression of confusion on his face.

"Do you want to talk to me about anything? I can see that there' s something bothering you, you think about it very intensely. Christoph, listen, I know this situation is not easy for either of us. But we have to go through it. And it will be easier for us when instead of shouting and arguing, we start to communicate like civilized people."

Schneider couldn't focus on what Till said to him. His head was still filled with strange thoughts.

_Richard and Paul, Paul and Richard.... No, that's bullshit. They have children. They can't be.... What if...?_

_No! Enough!_

_I can't stand it!_

"W-what?" He asked surprisingly, trying to collect thoughts. 

"If you're not feeling well, go back to your room and lie down, I'll justify you somehow. You have the right to rest, and I see you need it." Till looked at him carefully, completely off the trail. He didn't know what to do to get the truth out of Schneider, but he was sure he couldn't do it by force. It's best to wait it out. Give him time and ensure peace. And everything will work itself out.

"I can do this, everything's fine. Let's go." Christoph suddenly moved forward and Till followed in his footsteps. 

Soon they reached the chapel where Oliver, Paul, Flake and Richard were already waiting in the company of an elderly monk in a dark brown habit. He had a raw facial expression, an age-old beard and a rosary in his hand.

"Suddenly there was a strong earthquake and the foundations of the prison were shaken.

Immediately all the doors opened... Hello, you are a little late." He said.

"Please excuse us, but on the way we had to explain a certain... observation. Father Schneider has interesting objections, I wanted to hear them." Till justified himself.

The rest of the band, like one brother, raised their eyebrows in an expression of surprise, and Schneider wrinkles their forehead.

"Right, Father? Didn't you have any objections?" Till looked at the drummer in a communicative way, who for a moment took on the attitude of a misunderstood alien, until he literally barked.

"Oh, yes, it is."

Brother Leonard was one of the friars who was characterized by stubbornness and the pursuit of his goal, and he also loved to read and learn new things, so he immediately shot Christoph with a question.

"Perhaps you would like to share your objections with everyone?" He asked politely.

Schneider froze. He felt sweat running down his back.

Paul and Richard exchanged astonished looks.

Fortunately, Till sensed the situation and decided to save the remnants of his dignity and the dignity of Schneider.

I think we will have a lot of time for that, but my father is tired of travelling. He hasn't recovered yet, we have to give him a little bit of freedom."

"All right, then, gentlemen, I will show you around the monastery and then, together with Sister Berengaria, I will think about the work that will be assigned to you." Brother Leonard agreed with Till and he moved straight ahead to the chapel door.

The clock on the church in the nearby village has run at seven thirty.

Brother Leonard was surprised to find that there was not much time left to clean up and he increased the pace and literally chased the whole team along the tour route. And since he let them into almost every room, he needed a heavy bunch of keys that he carried in his habit pocket. When he walked around the castle, everyone could hear the sound of old metal keys, like the Imperial Guard.

Brother Leonard began his tour in a large library and stories of the ancient scrolls in it, then literally ran to the farm courtyard, where he presented the ensemble with homesteads full of animals. Sheep, pigs, two horses used as draught animals in forest clearing, and a huge herd of geese and hens. He also talked about an old cemetery on the edge of the forest outside the walls of the castle, which monks also take care of and regularly go there to pray for the souls of the dead.

Then he showed them the kitchen and guest rooms, but strictly stipulated that old nuns live on the first floor and it is best to avoid this floor from afar. He mentioned the catacombs under the chapel.

Brother Leonard's lecture showed that he had already given it at least a million times in his life. His voice with a perfect lack of intonation did not allow anyone to feel even a spark of pride over his ministry.

During the sightseeing tour, everyone tried to focus as much as possible on remembering everything and not making any mistakes, but when they entered the pigsty Richard was already confused by the dates and facts, which Brother Leonard told about when recalling the history of the monastery. As they walked through the cemetery in a slalom, Oliver asked if there are ghosts in the castle. Brother Leonard looked at him with a surprised look and answered that he hadn’t seen any ghosts in or near the castle, but that the locals believed in superstitions.

"I have been faithful to my promise for over thirty years and deny myself all bodily enjoyment. Even those I can deliver to myself." Brother Leonard spoke when everyone returned to the chapel and finished the tour. "This is the way. The way to enlightenment. I sacrifice a lot to give myself completely to the ministry, but that's what it's all about."

Richard relieved his painful leg and leaned carefully against the column, standing in the side nave of the chapel, in the twilight, hoping that no one would notice. Unfortunately for him, Till showed up right next to him.

"What are you doing?" He asked suspiciously, and Richard turned his head towards him, not taking his eyes off loudly speaking monk.

"My leg hurts, I fell down the stairs yesterday. I have to sit down for a while or I will go crazy in pain." He answered in half a voice.

"Go to the altar and pretend you are praying."

"I don't want to pray, I have to sit down, I can't stop, do something!"

"Quietly, for God's sake, in the one and only heaven!"

"Dear brothers, I must tell you that the vows of chastity and the renunciation of all personal rights are not, despite appearances, a great sacrifice!" Brother Leonard said in a loud voice.

At his words, Oliver bent down to Schneider.

"What do you mean, no? Thirty years without sex? After all, you can go crazy with it." He said.

Schneider thought again, so hard that he hardly noticed Oliver's words. When he looked at the bassist, he guessed that he had said something to him. He nodded his head slightly and went back to the lecture.

"Serving God requires sacrifice, but this sacrifice gives us joy. We are happy to do something for others. We are glad that we can work hard, torment the body so that the soul remains pure. Before we meet Sister Berengaria, let us pray together."

"Oh, no." Schneider moaned.

Till, meanwhile, tried to force Richard to go to the altar. 

"Move, everyone is already praying." The Singer growled.

"I can't kneel, I have a wound on my thigh."

Till knew perfectly well that Richard was very stubborn and if he was stubborn, no force would move him, but in this situation there was no time to argue. Till had to enforce some behaviour and Richard had to follow orders. The problem is that he didn't want to. 

"Go to the altar now, Richard!" He ordered, but Richard acted like he was completely deaf.

"Do not command me!" The guitarist yelled back.

"Go and kneel!"

Richard looked at the altar for the last time, where the rest of the band pretended or didn't pretend to pray, and sighed hard. He decided that he had to agree for the good of the situation.

_Sacrifice yourself. Mortifying the body is good, it is part of God's ministry. Just go and pray. Or kneel down._

Till grabbed him by the shoulder in an iron grip and pushed him hard, forcing Richard to move.

The guitarist croaked in pain, but eventually obediently moved forward with a slight limp, under the watchful eye of Till, who followed him through a narrow passage between wooden benches, making sure that Richard did not suddenly run away to the side. Finally, the guitarist reached the altar and knelt carefully next to Paul, who noticed him and smiled lightly at the angle of his eye.

To the left side of Richard there was Till, stabbing him with his elbow to the rib as a warning.

"I realize that this is almost a sin. Violence. But if God looks at you and how hard my life is with you, I think He will forgive me." He said.

Richard could hardly stand kneeling on a cold floor. His knees hurt and the wound on his thigh was tense. He was afraid that the skin would break again in a moment and blood would be spilled. That would be difficult to explain. Even Till seemed to disbelieve Richard's explanations to the end and he thought the guitarist was just being lazy.

However, the second day at the monastery was not so bad. All the sisters and brothers behaved very nicely towards the band, not suspecting anything, and Till's attitude as the watchful guardian of a group of priests only strengthened them in the fact that they deal with serving priests.

The only thing that could have escaped the attention of the clergy present everywhere was the tattoo on Lander's neck, which was hidden under a thick habit, or traces of piercings in Till's eyebrows, which he took out secretly just before leaving Richard's apartment. They had to admit to themselves, in general they seemed to be truthful and it was hard to accuse them of anything. Maybe they fought a little too much.

After the prayer was over, Brother Leonard lifted himself heavy from his knees and looked at the clergy, as he thought they were.

"In a moment we will meet Sister Berengaria. We will both talk about a division of labour for you. I am not gonna hide it, after yesterday's storm there is a lot of work, especially in the vegetable garden. You see, dear brothers, the storm is chaos. People say that a storm is God's wrath. But even this chaos has its own internal order in the world around us. When the ancient people observed nature, they were sure that they were witnesses of God who constructs the world. The hand of God can be seen everywhere, especially in nature." Brother Leonard slowly walked between the wooden benches, saying this, and Schneider, Flake, Till and Oliver followed him.

Richard couldn’t get up off his knees. He felt that he had been paralysed, which Paul immediately noticed.

"What happened?" He approached the guitarist and took a close look at him.

"Paul, help me up. I think I'm bleeding again." Richard moaned in pain.

Landers carefully grabbed Richard by the shoulder and started to lift him up. When he had already stood on his feet, he was squealing even louder.

"We need to go back to your room, I have to look at your wound." Paul said, looking at Richard face full of pain.

"I will not be able to get there." He responded.

Paul thought about it for a moment. He looked ahead, where the backs of the rest of the team were visible, absorbed by the conversation with brother Leonard. They didn't even notice that the two guitarists were missing.

When the chapel door closed behind the rest of the band members who followed the religious obediently to obtain a division of labor, Richard and Paul were left alone in the darkness, at the altar.

Paul looked around the chapel. There was darkness everywhere, and only a little light came through the colourful stained-glass windows. Two side naves were separated by one main nave, in which wooden benches for the priests and praying nuns were placed.

He decided that taking the cassock under the altar when the door from the chapel is open and everyone can enter is too risky. The idea came to him that he should help Richard move to the sacristy and calmly check there to see if there is anything wrong with the wound.

"Reesh, come on." Paul grabbed Richard again by the shoulder in a strong grip, keeping him from falling on the stone floor.

"Where are you taking me?" The guitarist asked with suprised.

"To the sacristy." Landers responded with smile. "There is no one there at this hour."

"Will you be burying yourself in that wound again? It hurts! Besides, I am sober, I have nothing to numb myself with." Richard moaned.

"Don't worry, I'll just see. Come on, come on."

They carefully walked to the closed, old wooden door. Luckily, there was no lock in them. Paul pushed the door with a decisive movement and brought Richard inside. In the room there was only a small window, an old wardrobe and a wooden table. Everywhere there was a smell of dust, and in all corners there were cobwebs.

Richard looked around with fear. He did not like spiders, bugs and insects, and certainly did not like the amount of dust and the smell of rot.

"Here. Sit down." Paul commended.

Richard looked at the table Paul pointed out to him and obeyed.

Then Paul got out of his mind and laughed lightly.

"Not like that. First take off your cassock."

"No, Paul, it's cold here, I don't want to get cold. I won't take it off." Richard protested loudly. His chest felt like a walnut about to crack and his muscles were tense, aware of pain.

"Then I'll take care of you by myself." When Paul pulled Richard's cassock up in a single movement, he jumped up and grabbed Paul's hands, making any movement impossible.

"What is this, a swan lake? Do you want to make me a ballerina?!" Richard yelled back with angriness in his voice. He felt weird.

"With your spine? You have got to be kidding me. Here you go." Paul gave him a piece of cassock fabric and was surprised to discover that underneath Richard was wearing a normal black jeans. He looked at him with his eyebrows up, and Richard shrugged his shoulders.

"What? What was I supposed to wear underneath? It's damn cold in here."

"Undo your pants." Paul ordered.

"What? You told me to hold the cassock."

"Oh, yeah, you… you’re right." Paul had been staring at Reesh for a fair amount of time now, though his look, had more than just an examing stare. It was lustful, hungry but full of afraid at the same time. His hands were shaking, but he knew he had to be strong. He can't let anything come to him. Richard looked at him and waited for the next move, he seemed a bit scared.

Paul took a deep breath and came close enough to have Richard at his fingertips. He slowly reached into Richard’s pants and looked at him, but Richard didn’t look away. He looked at him with blue eyes, reflecting boredom mixed with pain.

"Hurry up." Richard ordered.

Paul unzipped his pants in a violent motion and moved away.

"Are you going to slide them down, or should I do it myself?" He asked. He was shaken up. After that terrible night, when he had to dress Richard's wound and then comfort him after some nightmarish dream, he didn't even have a moment's rest because another intimate situation happened again.

"You do it. Make it fast." Richard answered. Suddenly, leaning on the table, he understood that he had to stand on both legs so that Paul could do his job in peace until the end.

"As you wish." Paul spoke in a sing-song tone, which seemed very different than how he normally was. When Landers was on his knees in front of him, Richard felt a strange feeling of warmth circulating somewhere in his lower abdomen. Something he had never felt before. Paul's fingers touched his thighs and Richard trembled.

"I am cold." Richard explained. He lied.

Paul still was running his hands down Reesh's thighs with a small smirk feeling how soft and smooth they felt. 

"You want me to warm you up?" He asked leaning on the inside of his thigh gaining a surprised noise from Richard. Paul looked up him with a question mark in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Richard asked with difficulty. That night, when he woke up from his nightmare dream, Paul was next to him. Richard fell asleep in his arms and felt safe. He felt soothed and close, which he had long lacked. He could have thought about it longer, but when Paul carefully unrolled the bandage, Richard returned to the real world.

"Chill out, I’m just teasing with you. Well, let me look at your wound… It's not so bad, there's some fresh blood coming out of the wound. You have to change the bandage and that's enough. I'll go talk to Brother Leonard. He should let you stay in peace today. You have to lie down." Paul said and carefully wrapped up the bandage.

He grabbed Richard's pants and slowly pulled them up and then fastened the lock and button. Richard finally took a breath.


	13. The Inner Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gentlemen are slowly finding themselves in their monastic duties. Schneider is considering whether he is already crazy or still has a chance to get out of it in one piece, Till is working on his back muscles, and Richard has heat.

Christoph silently stared at boiling water, completely forgetting that in his right hand he holds a small knife, and right next to him lies a large kick of potatoes waiting to be peeled. He stood like this for several minutes, blindly looking at the pot on the stove. Lured by sudden silence, the cat, a big black creature with thick fur and yellow eyes, finally decided to leave his hiding place, where he was hiding as soon as it was raining outside. He now entered the kitchen softly, giving Schneider a superior look, then jumped onto the hot stove and began to watch with interest what was preparing for dinner.

The sounds of bubbling water echoed through a large room where several friars and nuns prepared meals together. Christoph felt like he was locked in an airtight bubble where no external sounds were heard. He felt like he was transparent and people were looking through him.

Suddenly he found himself in a completely new situation, among strangers with different customs and behaviours. And what's worse, he had to adapt to the rules of the monastery. And although he wanted to tear Richard to pieces, he had to refrain from doing so. He wondered what it meant to mortify the body. Will he have to whip himself again like in Rosenrot?

What's going on in the house now? Is his family safe? Till promised they will be. He told Christoph to trust him. But with every hour, cut off from Western civilization, family, internet, news, politics and everything that was happening in the world, Schneider had the impression that he was losing his mind completely. He could not find himself in this situation, could not calm down and could not focus on his duties. What will happen next? Will they be able to return to Germany? Is there a danger for them? Will the band fall apart? Will the police be able to find the group that threatens them? Are there more that kind of dangerous people?

Schneider began to feel the negative effects of constant stress, fear and detachment from his life in the form of terrible headaches and night hallucinations. At least that's how he explained to himself what was happening between Richard and Paul.

Cut off from the music, Christoph could not find an outlet for his accumulated negative energy. He would give anything to find release on the drums. He was tough, had a relentless character and a strong desire to dominate. This meant that he and Richard were often misunderstood. Richard didn’t intend to submit to Christoph, while Christoph couldn’t ignore certain stupid behaviours of Richard.

Christoph claimed that if he didn't try to control his mind and emotions, he would soon lose his mind. Then it occurred to him that Richard took a suitcase full of cigarettes and alcohol with him. Schneider would have given anything to light a cigarette and not to think about anything for at least a few minutes.

"Brother Christoph, are you all right?" Suddenly a familiar voice pierced his head, and he jumped up as suddenly as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water on him. He looked around half-consciously.

As Schneider turned around and looked down, he saw Sister Berengaria, who was standing right in front of him with a worried expression on her aged face, waiting patiently for an answer. She didn’t intend to rush him, just wanted to ask if everything was all right.

"You ponder a little bit. What is it that troubles you so much?" She asked politely.

_What's bothering me? The fact that the band we created because of our determination and talent, with absolute lack of money, has become an international phenomenon and that now I can lose it. _

_I won't have anywhere to work or what to do. I am afraid for my family, I have small children who I cannot orphan because they need a father. I can't find myself here because I'm not a priest, I'm a drummer of a metal band that would make your sandals fall off your feet if you saw it. _

_I can't contact my wife and ask her how she is, I can't use the phone, I don't know what's going on in the world and my two friends from the band are probably having an affair. And it may seem funny to you, but I don't know if I can stand two gay guys in a band I've spent almost half my life with! _

_And I can't say anything to Till, because he'd break down, and he's still taking it pretty badly._

Schneider shook his head slightly and put a light smile on his face.

"I plunged into prayer." He lied.

* * *

_Idleness is one of the main enemies of souls. _Till found out by tubbing a large sack of flour on his back, for which he had to go to a nearby small mill supplied with water from a fast flowing mountain river. When he reached the granary with the flour, the door was opened mercifully by Flake, who was already waiting for him.

"Hurry up, we still have to bring baskets of apples from the orchard, and then do the laundry." Flake said.

Till noted these words unconsciously. Physical work was not hard for a man of his size, so Flake did it as a helper and avoided lifting heavy things. For the first time in a long time Till felt a blissful purification. When he was struggling, he forgot about his temporal problems. Richard and Paul disappeared after the morning tour of the monastery, but Till did not intend to worry about it.

_They won't get lost._

Instead of thinking about what Richard was up to, Till put a heavy sack of flour in the corner and, following Flake's instructions, both of them went to the orchard to get apples.

Till enjoyed the blissful silence, the morning rays of sunshine and the singing of birds until Lorenz started talking:

"Yesterday I heard from a monk that there are supposedly monasteries in Europe where nuns drink human blood and eat soup that gives them the power of divination. And when they die, the other nuns release a herd of pigeons that fly straight to Rome."

Till decided that nothing would surprise him after the recent events. He still couldn't control Schneider and his moods, Oliver didn't speak again, and Richard and Paul disappear, and apparently they're going to get out of their jobs.

Flake tireless about Till not listening to him at all, continued:

"Some people say that they are dead at all and that they are circling the Alps, hunting for stray wanderers. Till, you're not listening to me." Lorenz said, waving his hand in front of Lindemann's eyes, who didn't even move. "What are you thinking about?"

Till sighed and shaken his head.

"I… ugh. Nothing. I’m just thinking about how stupid Reesh and Christoph are."

"Stop worrying about them, they have to come to an agreement."

"You know very well that they will not do it, because it is simply impossible."

Flake sighed, opening a wooden gate in front of him, leading directly to the orchard of an apple tree. The weather was just perfect for working outdoors. Trees were bending under the weight of ripe apples, and in orchards nuns were walking around, busy with their work on harvests or bees.

"Till, listen to me. You will not help them, also you can only harm them. So please, leave it."

Flake was sure that the silence that surrounded them was due to Till seriously considering the meaning of Lorenzo's words. He got used to Till having quiet days when he didn't speak at all; hsuffered then internally, writing good lyrics and becoming more and more introverted. The rest of the band knew that this was the right thing to do. That he had to do that. So that art could develop and the band could survive. Till still thought that the world did not understand him, or maybe he did not understand the world, because the people who surround him are simply stupid and down-to-earth. Deprived of any deeper reflections.

But Flake was more down-to-earth. He wasn't particularly fond of people because he thought they were stupider than himself and was irritated by the noise they made. Instead, he preferred to devote himself to his interests, preferably outside the home, away from human homes.

That's why he and Till understood each other so well.

Suddenly Till woke up from his lethargy.

"Where the hell is Oliver?"

* * *

Because of the wound on his thigh, Richard was relieved of his monastic duties for the next few days, and Paul promised to look after him and cleanse the wound. Sister Berengaria said that Richard would not have to attend masses and evening readings until he felt better enough to move around freely.

And so Paul carefully helped Richard to return to his room from the sacristy.

Richard felt worse and worse, his leg hurt terribly and the painkillers stopped working. He was thinking about drinking enough alcohol to be unconscious for a few hours, but Paul's presence made it impossible. Paul was overzealous and overprotective, especially towards Richard, which Schneider always described as a kind of new, strange pathology.

Paul carefully put Richard on the bed, previously forcing him to pull off his cassock to make him more comfortable, and then hung the fabric in the wardrobe.

"How do you feel?" He asked while standing next to the bed.

Richard seemed displeased, still had a visible grimace of pain on his face, which increased as soon as he moved a little.

"It hurts. More and more. I need something to relieve the pain." Richard picked up, rising up on his elbows and reaching under the bed straight into his suitcase, which confronted with a protest from Paul.

"We both know very well that this is not a good solution." Paul sighed, sitting next to Richard on the bed, leaning his hands on his thighs.

Richard looked at him surprised.

"You are wrong, this is a very good solution. Maybe it is not eternal and lasts a short time, but it helps. It relieves pain and allows you to forget what you are going through." He responded.

"If you explain it this way, you'll soon become an addicted alcoholic. Don't you remember how hard it was for you to break your heorinic addiction? Remember. It took a long time."

Richard shaken his head in a gesture of disagreement.

"Nonsense, alcohol is not drugs. I'll only take a few sips, I'll feel better, my leg won't hurt any more. I will fall asleep. And when I wake up, it’ll..." He stopped for a moment staring at the cross hanging above the door, which made Paul a little worried about Richard's reaction.

After a few seconds, Richard turned his head and looked at confused Paul.

"It will all be over." He said.

"Do you think that if you get drunk, the three weeks will pass at an express pace? Then you're wrong. But don't worry, we'll go through it together. I won't let you break down. This is not the kind of thing we've experienced before. We are here together, we have to support each other, only this way we can..."

"I know, I know. We have to stick together." Richard groaned in pain again and Paul reflexively put his hand on Kruspe’s thigh.

The guitarist looked at Paul's hand and stopped at it.

A strange feeling of warmth spreading somewhere in the lower abdomen came back again and Richard felt strange. Strangely comfortable. Paul's hand rested softly on his thigh, in a warm gesture, and Landers himself was looking at Richard with some strange, unpredictable smile on his face, that smile that Richard realized he loved. When Paul smiled, Richard felt that the sun was shining brighter and the world was no longer as hopeless as it used to be.

When Paul was beside, Richard felt safe and comfortable and... really good. For the first time in a long time, although the circumstances would seem unfavourable. Right now Richard has received even more support from Paul than he could have imagined.

What are friends for?

Seconds went by and Paul's hand still rested quietly on Richard's thigh, but Kruspe himself seemed to have no problem with that.

A strange feeling filled his body, similar to the one he felt the first time he kissed Paul at Ausländer. Excitement, passion, emotions. It was like he had taken something stimulating, some psychoactive substance. The difference was that he was now sober and absolutely clean. No drugs, no alcohol. And Paul seemed so perfect, almost holy to him.

Richard said that Landers simply felt sorry for him because of their long friendship. The awkward silence seemed to last indefinitely, until Richard finally pulled himself into a sitting position, forcing Paul to take his hand off.

Over the years Paul has come very close to Richard, but it has never meant anything to them except friendship. Then suddenly Richard discovered that he felt a strange excitement when Paul touched him. Suddenly he began to wonder whether Paul... if he could touch him more.

The night before, when Paul was holding him in his arms after that horrible dream, Richard fought with thoughts about whether he was gay or not. Whether it's just human desire…?

_Desire? He is my friend, Jesus Christ!_

Richard never imagined what it would look like. And that night he began to think. What if something happened between them? How do you move on to everyday things? What impact would it have on the band? What if Paul decided to leave because he couldn't stand the fact that his own friend feels more than friendship to him? This is what Richard was most afraid of, that Paul would leave him. That the band would fall apart.

He hadn't slept for a few hours, although tiredness and alcohol had done their job. Instead, he made visions of how Paul could touch him.

Richard got over it again.

Paul looked at him with an inquiring eye and waited until Kruspe finally spoke to him.

"Tell me, because I need to know. Why are you treating me like this?" Richard asked, and Paul raised his eyebrows with surprise.

"What do you mean by that?"

Richard laughed nervously and moved closer to Paul.

"I mean, you care so much about me. Tell me why you do it, I want to know it, it's important to me."

Paul seemed for a moment to be terribly lost in the words Kruspe had said, but he immediately gathered himself together and decided to answer, although it seemed clear to him that Richard really knew and only teased him.

"That's what friends do to take care of themselves and help each other. Have you forgotten how we helped Till when he became a single father? I'm doing this because you're important to me." Paul said calmly.

Richard moved. His throat was dry. His thoughts began to rush madly around one desire. He wanted to get close to Paul to see if he could still feel the strange excitement that accompanied him every time he kissed during the tour promoting the new album.

So far Richard thought it was just a part of the show, the directed scenes that they play to please the fans and give them what they want - a good time. But he didn't know where the boundary of all this madness was and how far he could go.

Paul kissed more and more every time, but Richard never kissed him for more than two or three seconds at most. After all, they both diverged in two different directions of the scene and played another song.

"Richard?"

Kruspe shook off his lethargy as he looked at Paul, who was watching him closely.

"I'm sorry, I can't focus my thoughts because of the pain." Richard smiled lightly, trying to cover up the embarrassment on his face. Paul sent him strange, ambiguous signals. He was close by, touched him, told him how important Richard was to him, but he could only consider him a friend.

It was the first time Richard felt desire.

"Maybe I’ll regret this, maybe it would be the end of Rammstein…" Richard mumbled, and Paul touched his schoulder, which made him whimpered.

"Tell me, what is going on. Please, I’m worry about you, Reesh. You know you can trust me, do you?"

Richard liked the risk. He always gave himself one hundred percent and never gave up. He always wanted to push forward. And this time he decided to take his chances and take his chances.

"Paul… do you want to kiss me? Please."


	14. Detention

Richard's words slipped out of his mouth so quietly that Paul could only hear the ending and could not find himself in the context. He blinked twice and then approached Richard.

"What did you say?" He asked, wrinkling his eyebrows and waiting for an answer. Kruspe was saying something about a kiss, but Paul wasn't sure what exactly Richard meant.

Richard immediately noticed that he still had time to escape, so he took a fighting stance and decided to wait with his thoughts. He wasn't going to tell Paul how he really felt about him. Not yet, not yet.

Paul, on the other hand, blinked impatiently, had his eyes stuck in Richard, and his mouth opened slightly.

"I told you to kiss my ass, Landers. You don't have to help me, you don't have to be so caring, I don't need it!" Richard yelled.

Paul got angry. That wasn't the answer he expected. After everything he did for him, Richard did not show him any gratitude except for his constant complaining.

"Think whatever you want, but I am your friend and your friends are helping each other. But if you continue to behave like this, I will leave you here alone and go about your business." He said angrily.

Richard took a breath. He didn't want to upset Paul, but he felt relieved. The context of the situation was blurred and Richard did not have to explain anything anymore. He had a chance to rethink everything and to reflect on what was going on in his head. And it started to get disturbing for him.

"I don't understand why you're suddenly treating me like this. I always thought we were special to each other. I understand that our situation is difficult, that everything that happens scares you and you have the right to be afraid. But we have to help each other so that we don't go crazy. Haifisch, Richard. Don't forget why we wrote this song." Paul said with sadness in his voice. "When you talk to me like that, I feel like it's not you. It's like I'm being spoken to by a stranger."

Paul couldn't be angry with Richard. Instead of anger, he was filled with sadness. He decided to leave Richard alone with his thoughts and cut himself off from the whole conversation for a moment.

He got up and left without saying a word goodbye, and Richard felt a strange stab in his chest, like suddenly he was filled with air.

* * *

Schneider didn't believe his eyes and ears. Through a slightly open bedroom door, he saw Paul sitting dangerously close to Richard, whispering something to him, and Christoph could only read one thing from his lips: _kiss me_. Before anyone saw him, he quietly moved away from the door and headed straight for the chapel. That was too much.

A quarter before twelve noon, a mighty brass bell on one of the four castle towers resounded loudly, calling the clergy to pray in the afternoon.

The first person to appear in the chapel was Christoph. After what he saw, he said it was too late to guess. He quickly walked to the altar and knelt before it, putting his hands together to pray.

"God forgive them because they do not know what they are doing. And forgive me if I kill them one day, because I can't stand it on the next tour. God, why did you leave me in the middle of nowhere in the company of such idiots? I beg you, if you're there and you can hear me, get me out of here!" Christoph breathed hard, his lips were open and his breathing was as difficult as after an exhausting run.

He never belonged to overreligious people, he celebrated Christmas and he liked it very much, but he didn't really visit the church. Suddenly on that day he felt an inner need to talk to a higher power. He whispered prayers, clenching his fists and feeling tears of anger in his eyes. Just a moment ago, he had a great desire to enter this room and once and for all dispel all doubts, but fortunately he abstained. As long as the rest of the team doesn't know, Richard and Paul will not reveal themselves. Schneider thought so naively - so he won't have to watch it.

Everything would have been easier if he hadn't answered to Till's damn phone that night and listened to him. Why did he obey his order, leave his grieving wife and children and go to Berlin, directly to Kruspe's apartment? Because he got used to doing what Till told him to do.

Christoph had the impression that if Richard and Paul revealed themselves that if there was something between them, something that Schneider had been observing for a long time and told himself it was nothing important, the world would be plunged into darkness forever and the fans would shed oceans of tears. He repeated the litany more and more quietly as he was weakened by the excess of thoughts gathered in his head.

"It’s too late to call God." Christoph whined. "It’s too late."

* * *

Oliver, armed with a digger, has just finished digging a vegetable garden belonging to the monks. He put down his tool in an old shed near the garden and took a large wooden box with the intention of picking carrots.

His hands were quite dirty, just like his habit, on whose material there was dust.

The air of the day after the terrible storm was soaked in rot, and the garden was lightly flooded. Oliver thought that the tactical shoes worn by Richard were a good idea, given the harsh conditions, and under a long cassock, nobody noticed what kind of shoes Oliver wore in the mud.

The other priests were slowly finishing their work; they drove the hens to the farm, walked the horses to the stable, and brought the honey collected from the nearby apiary.

Suddenly, the gate to the inner courtyard opened with a gnashing rasp, through which a huge flock of sheep ran. They were followed by two shepherds and a young woman carrying a lamb in her hands.

Oliver straightened up and the carrot box fell on his foot. If it wasn't for his tactical shoes, he would probably need the help of an orthopedic surgeon.

The girl was young, not more than twenty years old. She was dressed in a snow-white shirt stretched over her chest and a dark red patterned skirt. She had long red hair braided into a braid, which hung freely on her left shoulder. She smiled radiantly, talking to the shepherds.

Oliver was shocked. He did’t remember the last time he saw such a wonderful creature. Natural, laughing, with a lamb on her hands.

When the girl reached the pen, the shepherds opened the gate from the fold and began to let the herd in. When all the sheep were inside, the girl knelt down and put the lamb on the ground.

Oliver was still standing still, with the carrot box at his feet dropped and staring at the girl, who now noticed him and with a happy smile began to walk toward him. He felt the sweat flowing down his back. And it wasn't just the result of his work in the garden, nor the thick material of his robe.

"Hello, brother." The girl spoke, still smiling broadly, and Oliver was astonished to open his eyes wider.

"Hello... my child. You speak English?"

"Yes!" She nodded her head, throwing a long braid backwards on her back. "I learned in school, in the village. A lot of people speak other languages here. The older ones may not, but the younger ones speak quite good English or Hungarian. Maybe I can help? I can see that my brother has a lot of work to do."

Oliver groaned in spirit, begging her to leave him alone before the strange thoughts came to his head, but it was too late.

"Maybe you could help me pick up these carrots?"

* * *

After the prayer, when the chapel was empty, Schneider still knelt at the altar, this time holding it in his hands for a change. In such a state he was found by Till, who was a bit worried seeing a drummer who spent almost an hour kneeling on the stone floor, praying loudly, and his sounding voice penetrated the interior of the chapel, almost drowning out the other participants of the mass.

The last candles were burning up, they were already orange. The wicks were smouldering for a while more, crackling. Over Schneider, who was weeping silently over his fate, darkness dazzled.

Till was an atheist and despite his artistic approach to the world, he didn’t think that there was anyone who controlled the fate of man. Till considered himself to be his own master and guided by his feelings.

He approached Schneider with an uncertain step and watched him closely. For as long as he knew him, he did not remember Christoph visiting churches or praying at all. Initially, Till thought that this was an individual matter for each person and that he should not interfere. If Christoph feels the need for purification, let him do it. But something was really weird to him.

Schneider's condition was terrifying. He knelt motionlessly on a cold grey stone floor, clenching the rosary in his hands until his thumbs turned white, he looked at a point and without blinking an eye as the mantra was repeated: _Father, have mercy on us._

Schneider shifted to a completely different world.

He is running. He runs through the forest. The forest is so dense that the sunlight hardly gets through the branches of the trees. The more he prays, the faster he runs. There is no living spirit around him. He reaches the edge of the forest, he hears wolves howling, and the sky suddenly turns black with light. Everything around him is shrouded in strange fog. Everything around is black and white. Christoph stops, lands on his knees and bursts into tears. He wants to get up and then he hears footsteps between the trees. Some invisible force presses him to the ground, and then Christoph feels a back pain as if something were tearing his spine apart.

He suddenly held his breath, and his body pulled forward, causing the rosary to fall out of his hand.

Till grabbed him by the shoulders.

Christoph moaned like he was about to die.

"Schneider, what's the matter with you?! You need a doctor and you need one as soon as possible." He shook the drummer, but Christoph was completely out of touch with reality.

Schneider was still moaning, filled with non-existent pain, and Till was increasingly afraid that it was a neurological condition like epilepsy.

"Schneider!" Till knelt on the ground, holding Schneider's inert body in his arms. His eyes were open, but foggy, unconscious. Various words, a mixture of Latin and German, kept coming out through the open mouth.

Till was really scared for the first time because Christoph did not react at all to the stimuli coming from the world. Lindemann still tried to revive him, shaking him and almost begging him to come back to himself.

After a short time, Christoph woke up like he was awakened from hypnosis. He seemed pretty confused. He carefully lifted himself out of his knees, still held by Till's shoulders.

"What happened?" Schneider asked with a hoarse voice. He looked around and without any surprise knew that he was still in the chapel. Through colourful stained-glass windows, sunlight came into the chapel, creating beautiful streaks of light on the stone floor.

"You have lost touch with the world, Christoph. What were you even doing here?" Till made sure that Schneider wouldn't fall to the ground and let go of his arms, giving him freedom of movement.

"I... I think I prayed. But I don't remember exactly."

The drummer rubbed his sweaty forehead with his hand and realized that he was holding a rosary in his hand.

Till looked at Schneider's hands.

"Where did you get it from?" He pointed to the rosary and Christoph shaken his head.

"I-I don't know. I don’t... I don't remember."

Till was clearly worried. He had never seen Schneider like this before.

"Have you ever had such seizures of loss of consciousness?"

"What? No, I don't know."

"Schneider, you should go to the doctor, it could be something serious. Have you ever had a CT scan of your brain? Have there been any cases of epilepsy in your family? Maybe it is epilepsy."

"What are you suggesting? That I am ill? I am fine."

"Fine? You acted like something possessed you!" Till growled.

"I was going to tell you this before, but I thought it was stupid, that..."

"Christoph, damn it, tell me what's going on."

"It's about Richard and Paul. I think there is something between them."

* * *

Richard raised his elbow, wandering with his eyes through the darkness of the room towards Paul's bed. But why? Is he deluding himself that Paul is back?

He reached under his pillow, where he hid his black, warm sweatshirt, because the walls of the monastery after the sun came down and hid behind the trees stopped being heated.

He imposed it on himself and sat down carefully. Schneider was also not in the room, and Richard felt more and more abandoned and lonely. Without access to music and without his bandmates, accompanied by old nuns and priests, he felt strange. Like an alien.

He looked at his hands, where there were prints from holding the guitar cube and reflexively rubbed his thumb against the index finger. If he doesn't play the guitar within a few days, he's probably out of his mind.

* * *

The afternoon started innocently as usual, but this time the argument was hanging in the air.

Schneider, Flake, Till and Oliver, along with all the priests, came together in the dining room for dinner. Christoph had a short fuse and was quickly angry. So it was this time. He could no longer suffocate the fact that he saw things and Till pretended to see nothing. The problem is that Till wasn't really pretending, and even if it turned out to be true, he wouldn't mind.

When he found Christoph praying spasmodically in the chapel, and then Christoph told him that Paul and Richard were definitely hiding something, Till got mad. He decided that Schneider was doing it on purpose to shorten his stay in the monastery as soon as possible, because he wanted to return home. And a fight in the band would lead to that.

Usually when the drummer exploded in anger, arguing with other band members, Till turned off the phone and disappeared for the whole day, one or more, until everyone started worrying about him, thus apologizing to each other. This time Till had nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, so he had to confront Schneider's anger.

"How much longer are you going to pretend you can't see anything?" Schneider asked Till, waving his hands at him, almost throwing off the rosary wrapped around his hand.

Till finally couldn't stand it and exploded.

"Well, as usual, it's all because of me, isn't it? Ah, the bad Till. The bad, rotten, the worst!"

"You've got something wrong with your head, Schneider!"

"Now you're trying to make me crazy? You manipulate me, but I have eyes and I know what's going on here. There is something between them!"

"In my opinion, you're just crazy, and even if you're right, it's none of your business. Anyway, I have a different theory for that. You want to go home. You want us to argue so that we start treating each other like enemies, then we will stop caring about each other. On each other, on the band, we'll decide that it's all pointless, and you'll go back to Germany."

Suddenly the air went through a whirr and immediately afterwards a hysterical scream, which would have caught everyone's attention if it hadn't been for the deafening bell ringing and calling for the canonical hours to take place right after the meal.

"STOP IT!"

Christoph and Till both fell silent and looked at Flake, surprised by its sudden explosion.

"Finally, understand that besides you and your problems, there are others here and stop arguing about bullshit!" Flake yelled, and took off his glasses.

Schneider looked as if he had been hit in the face.

"God, you don't even know how wrong you are. You have no fucking idea." The drummer replied by clenched throat. "Someone has to tell you this at last, because you are completely blind! And either I do it or I force Richard or Paul to confess! Till, how much longer will you be avoiding the answer? Choose, or I will."

Flake suddenly seems to have shaken off. He looked up at Christoph and put on his glasses again. He squinted his eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked.

Schneider smiled fiercely, not letting go of Till, who started shaking with anger.

"I'm talking about our two guitarists who have more in common than just a passion for music."

There was silence. Only silence. For the first time Flake felt as if he didn't want to ask any more questions.

"We all know that Richard and Paul didn't get along well at first. Difference of characters and priorities. Richard likes to be in the spotlight and still thinks he can be better. For Paul Rammstein he was a chance for a better life. You know, the 90's, the west was beginning to blow with a great world, with prosperity. When Paul joined the team, Richard didn't want to know him because he felt rejected, worse. He wanted to be the best, but here what? Another guy comes and takes his job. But the joint recording of songs, tours, concerts, all this did its job and the guys liked each other. Too much. And now that Richard is wounded and lonely, and we all know how much Richard is afraid of loneliness, he is looking for the comfort that Paul is eager to give him." Schneider said with low, satisfy voice.

Till kept silent as he stared at Schneider, who put all the pieces of the puzzle together dangerously well, but Till was tough and tenacious. He stayed true to his version that it was only a provocation.

"And only because they show support, do you think they're having an affair?" Till asked. "Tell me more, they're sleeping together, and then I'll get up and leave."

"I don't know, but I can promise you that I will find out."

"Christoph, don’t push to the limit, you're walking on thin ice, making such accusations."

"Ask them yourself. But if you think one of them will admit it, you're stupid and naive, Lindemann." Christoph smirked.

Till felt the look on his face of Flake and Schneider. Less friendly, but more vigilant and mocking. Flake did not think to help him, on the contrary, he preferred to remain silent for as long as possible, because now only that, only his silence protected the situation from bloodshed.

Oliver was so absent during the whole situation that when Schneider finally fell silent and started his dinner, Till paid attention to the bass player, who was sitting with his gaze stuck in the plate and didn’t speak at all.

Oliver was usually very quiet and withdrawn, never arguing or causing any problems with anyone, but his behaviour made Till wonder if there was anything wrong with the monastery, when apparently his band members, one by one, are beginning to lose their minds.

* * *

It was almost sixteen o'clock, and Richard was still sitting alone in his room, patiently waiting for Paul to come back and at least look at him.

He tried to control the cacophony of moans and sobs of his own conscience in his head. He clenched his fists so as not to scream. He didn't know how to silence his voice in his brain. He would most willingly fall into a deep sleep. It's only a few hours of rest until he feels better. And he realized that without Paul's presence he was simply unhappy.

He thought that it was too late to fight his emotions and desires. He survived half his life and decided not to punish himself for what he was doing any more. Because he doesn't do anything wrong.

Suddenly the door opened and Paul went inside.

Richard moved. He would love to jump out of bed and go hugging him, but he couldn't stand on a sore leg.

"I thought you'd be asleep when I got back. In a moment the mass begins, and then there is dinner and evening prayer."

"Paul, where have you been so long?" Richard asked in a voice so full of pain that something broke in Landers, but he didn't want to show it. Not yet.

"I was walking. I had to... I had to think."

Paul looked at Richard with a raw expression on his face that a weaker heart could have caused a heart attack.

But there was something. Paul brought Richard dinner.

"Eat. You have to eat. You haven't eaten since this morning." He put a plate in his hands and Richard thought it was a good sign.

"Paul, I'm so sorry about my behavior. I know I'm acting like an asshole, but I need you. Don't leave me here in these circumstances. I don't want to be alone."

"Don’t talk about it. Just eat." Paul commanded.

Then an idea came to mind for Richard.

"Don't you think we always talked better when we had this?" He reached under the bed with his hand and got the whiskey out of it. The same one that he hadn't completely drunk the day before and there was half a bottle left. But half a bottle of whisky was not enough and the gentlemen opened another one after a few hours. Before twenty o'clock, they both fell asleep, tired of the excess of emotion.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in silence. Christoph didn’t say a word to Till anymore, and Till told Flake to leave him alone and ask no questions. Flake, in turn, was so surprised and confused that he didn't want to ask anything, and Oliver could plunge into thinking about a girl from a nearby village, because Riedel's behaviour seemed completely normal to Till.

During the evening mass, Till was still digesting Christoph's words, slowly recalling some past events that might have escaped his vigilant eyes. But should he really be looking for the second bottom in this? Would Richard and Paul suddenly fall in love with each other after 25 years? Besides, they were... men. Till never had anything against people of different orientation, but he thought that both gentlemen preferred women.

Till was so preoccupied with more and more hysterical thoughts that he could not focus on the deeds of the apostles. After the mass, at about twenty-first hour, the clergy went to their cells. Some intended to go to rest, while others planned individual prayers. Schneider, on the other hand, planned his own investigation. Even if he was to stay awake at night and listen, pretending to sleep, he would do it. He will watch Richard and Paul carefully until Till believes in his observations. It's just... What then? Schneider decided that for now he wouldn't worry about it. Now he has to be vigilant.

When he returned to his room, he stumbled over the alcohol bottles lying on the ground that Richard had smuggled into the monastery.

The smell of burnt cigarettes was still in the air, and the open window suggested that Richard smoked them in the room without even trying to hide from it.

Schneider coursed. He looked around the room suspiciously, but apart from empty alcohol bottles and cigarettes pressed into one of them, he did not notice anything suspicious. He swore to himself that he would catch Richard in the act. If not today, then tomorrow or the day after. And then Till would have to believe him.

But Schneider said he wasn't going to keep watch that night. Fatigue took over and, emotionally exhausted, he simply fell asleep in a hard sleep, from which nothing could wake him up.

Richard woke up a few minutes at midnight. He managed to sober up a little bit. He dreamt that he had told Paul how he felt about him.

He dreamt that he was touching him, and Paul was close. So close to him.

When Richard noticed the darkness in the room, he knew it was the middle of the night. Paul slept on the bed next door, but Richard saw his face when his eyes got used to the darkness. He stared at Paul for a long time, and suddenly the wolf howling made him move and elbow down one of the bottles that had fallen from the table on the floor. This awakened Paul, who heard the bang and immediately jumped on the bed.

"Richard, what is going on? What are you doing?" Before Lander's mind knew what he was doing, the body took the initiative. His legs carried him straight to Richard.

Richard held his breath as Paul sat next to him.

"Are you all right?" Paul patted him affectionately on his shoulder, but the percentages he drank did their job. Richard's life flew before his eyes. Even if it was the end of the band and Paul hated him for the rest of his life, he had to try.

With one quick move, he grabbed Paul by the shoulders and pressed their lips together. Paul opened his lips with a gasp as Richard ground his hips into Paul’s.

"Reesh… S-stop." Paul tried to broke the kiss.

"Why? Don’t you like it?" Richard asked, and Paul moaned. He was out of breath.

Richard allowed him to come up for some air but didn't pause kissing him, ducking his head immediately to Paul's neck and sucking his tattoed skin, leaving marks into every inch of skin area he found. He was hungry for more.

"Please, just s-stop… W-what are you doing to me?" Paul finally got up on his elbows and looked unconsciously at Richard.

"Forgive me, I don't know what's happening to me. I am so confused. I wanted to kiss you, I really wanted to."

Paul smiled lightly.

"Why did you want to kiss me?"

Richard licked his mouth.

"Because I have feelings for you. And it's not... just a friendship. I'm drunk and I don't know what I'm doing, I'll probably regret it tomorrow and you won't want to know me, but.... I want you, Paul. I don't know why."


	15. Change can be amazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard makes a decision once and for all that will change his relationship with Paul from now on.

Richard was bewildered. Suddenly everything made sense. The way Paul looked at him, that he was always by his side and supported him no matter what. The situation was clear.

"I thought you preferred women." Paul said, without taking his eyes off Richard.

"I thought so too." The guitarist said. "But... maybe it's not about the gender but it's about a human?"

"Maybe." Paul agreed. "Can you explain that to me? What's actually going on between us?" He asked, obviously confused. He looked closely at Richard, and there was a feeling in his gray eyes that Richard wasn't sure.

"I should be the one to hear an explanation. You spend time with me, you take care of me, you offer to help me, you're always there when I need you. This is... more than friendship. I see the way you look at me, the way you discreetly try to be by my side, always close to me." Richard fell silent for a while and shrugged his muscular arms under the black T-shirt he wore to sleep when he was taking off his heavy cassock after a day. "Until now, I thought it was just innocent smiles, that I could see more than it really is. But after the last tour, after you kissed me in Aüslander..." Richard fell silent again, and Paul stabbed a look into it. His hand in the dark found Richard's hand and squeezed it tight.

The leader guitarist laughed nervously.

"Now I know it was really more than I thought it was. I am a terrible ignorant. I didn't realize what was going on between us. I'd like to know how long it's been going on?" Richard asked.

"I don't know. "There came a time when I realized that I felt more to you than friendliness. But I never told you that."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I was scared. Are you surprised? I didn't want to cause the band to crash. I didn't know how you'd react, what you'd tell me, what you'd do. Understand me. I was horrified. I couldn't deal with that feeling for you. I was trying to stop it, not think about it. But every time you were close, it came back with double the force. I couldn't think of anything else but you." Paul tried to sound confident, but his voice was shaking, which seemed extraordinarily charming and emotional to Richard.

"How long?"

"Richard..." Paul groaned. This conversation was difficult for him, but they both knew they had taken it too far to stop it now and leave it all unexplained.

"I don't know, maybe a few years." Paul stopped talking and waited for Richard to react. That night he confessed to everything. And he realized that nothing would be the same from now on. Deep down, he felt relieved that he would no longer have to hide and pretend to be an exemplary friend. On the other hand, he was afraid of being rejected.

Richard was silent and wondered what to say. He appreciated the fact that Paul told him the truth. That could only mean one thing, Paul trusted him very much.

He looked around carefully, making sure Schneider was asleep. The whole room was filled with silence interrupted only by the drummer snoring.

"I owe you an apology, Paul. I was stupid and blind. I let you suffer for so many years and it never occurred to me to ask if everything was all right."

Paul's heart rate was accelerating. He felt his heartbeat pounding in his chest causing a slight discomfort in breathing.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long for all this. I'm sorry I didn't let you trust me enough to tell me about it. I didn't mean to hurt you." Richard's hand gently touched Paul’s shoulder.

Paul instinctively went back so far that he fell on the mattress again. Despite the darkness in the room, he couldn't take his eyes off the barely visible outline of Richard's face.

"What do we do now?" Paul asked, interrupting the awkward silence, while at the same time making enough room for Richard to get close to him.

Richard leaned over him, turning his head for the last time and making sure Schneider didn't hear anything.

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

"Of course not. It's none of their business." Kruspe muttered quietly and slowly licked his mouth.

"You promise me they won't find out?"

"I promise. Trust me." Richard said softly, grabbing Paul's chin and lifting him up enough to have access to his neck. Richard's lips slid across it, kissing, sucking and biting to the bottom of it.

Paul took a deep breath.

"I trust you. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't tell you everything." He said.

Richard grabbed Paul's chin again and started kissing his neck. He gently moved his right hand along Paul’s body. Paul was so desperately trying to control the movement of his hips, which spontaneously pushed upwards to rub against Richard.

The younger man stopped kissing and found Paul's hand. He led her over Paul’s head and pressed against the mattress. He did the same with other hand. Paul felt weak and submissive, but obediently let Richard do what he wanted.

"Paul, I have to ask you something. Have you... have you ever been with a man?"

"Do you think this is the right time to ask me that?" Paul's voice was a little funny, and that totally got Richard outfaced.

"When do you want me to ask that?" Still holding him by his wrists, Richard went up a bit, giving Paul a little freedom of movement.

"No. I wasn't. And you?" Paul asked.

Richard bit his lip off, remembering all the facts of his youth. The parties he attended, the people he met. Maybe he thought about it once, but he didn't get a chance to see what it was like. In this respect, his friendship with Paul was taking it to a whole new level.

"No. Neither." He responded.

"I'm sorry to say this, but your question sounded like you wanted to..."

"Sleep with you? With Schneider next to us? That would be suicide."

Paul sighed and laughed. He felt relaxed and safe enough with Richard's strong body above him.

"Yes. That would be irresponsible. He's the last person who should see it. And know it."

"I don't know why I'm doing this, but I really want to. But this is not the right time. I don't want anyone to see or hear it."

"For God's sake, we're in a monastery, Schneider is the least of our problems right now." Paul's mind has become anxious. The awareness that someone might have entered the room was terrifying. If the fans found out...

He felt the grip on his left wrist relaxed and suddenly Richard's thumb was on Paul's cheek, wandering straight into his mouth. The thumb slanted gently between his lips and slid shallowly into his mouth. Paul bit it, and Richard sucked in the air with a whistle and hummed enticingly.

"You know what would happen if some old nun came in here now?" Richard started provocatively, getting close to Paul's face. He grabbed his wrist again and put it right over Paul's head, and Paul pushed his hips towards Richard.

Richard kissed him very deeply. Paul moaned loudly.

"Fuck, I don’t want Schneider to wake up so you have to be silent." Richard barked into Paul’s neck. He moaned again.

"Reesh, I know this is… weird and I don’t know what is going with me, but please. If you’re not gonna stop, I’m warning you." Paul whimpered. His hips rubbed against Richard’s.

"You’re hard. Fuck, what are we gonna do next with this?" The guitarist asked, eating out Paul’s mouth.

"Reesh, stop or…"

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

Their breaths became shallow and fast, full of waiting.

Paul had already seen the scandal with his eyes if sister Berengaria had seen them now. The whole monastery would talk about it, and then… wait... what would happen to the band? Till would be angry that they destroyed the whole secret operation, Schneider would go mad, Flake wouldn't speak to them for the rest of his life, and Oliver would probably not notice anything.

Awareness of the scandal that would have arisen in Europe made Paul want to free himself as soon as possible and go back to his bed, but on the other hand he wanted more. He fought his thoughts for a while. Why would anyone find out about this? And even if, so what? Rammstein had already done so much provocation that even such action wouldn't have changed much. Anyway, he could always say it was bullshit. Well, who would believe it?

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the noise coming from across the room.

They both freezed.

Schneider turned to the other side so that if he opened his eyes now he would probably see an interesting view. For a moment he was snoring loudly and Richard held his breath, making sure Schneider was still sleeping.

Then he let go of Paul's wrists and carefully slid out from between his thighs.

"That's enough. Let's go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Good idea." Paul said, breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath. His cheeks were burning and his stomach twisted. His hands were limp, he felt like he just got out of the water, heavy and weak.

* * *

The bed was comfortable, but still Christoph didn't sleep very well. The fatigue of the previous day caused him to spend the night frozen in various positions, which in the morning made his neck and shoulders hurt mercilessly.

He dreamt of everything and nothing. When he woke up, he couldn't remember what he was dreaming about. He felt tired and restless. 

Roosters making noise in the courtyard made him realize that he was convinced that he should soon get up for the morning assembly.

Schneider got up to his sitting position and looked around the room. Under the table there was a bottle on the floor. The room was empty, Paul and Richard were not there.

Christoph decided it was time to get up and look around for signs of something suspicious before Till came and took him to breakfast with all the clergy and then to the morning mass.

* * *

Richard thought he could get to the shower room by himself and safely without Paul's help.

When he woke up in the morning, Paul slept hard, snoring quietly. He looked as innocent as ever. Richard began to wonder if he hadn't dreamt of all this, but the bottle lying under the table that fell on the floor at night confirmed that it had really happened.

Richard had a strange sense of guilt. Maybe he should have waited? Maybe he should have watched Paul longer, instead of throwing himself at him? Whatever he did, it was too late now. He could still count on Paul to forget everything and think when he woke up, it was just a stupid dream. A crazy dream.

The morning was cold, the mountain air was filling the bathing room, so Richard sooner dropped off his shirt and underwear and went into the shower. The oil he took from Berlin froze in his hands, giving off a sharp, citrus fragrance.

The hot water pleasantly spilled over his body. He stood there for a few minutes thinking intensely when suddenly he felt that someone was watching him.

When he turned his head, he saw Paul.

_It wasn't a dream. It was really happening. _

Paul was standing behind him, with his eyes wide open. He took a step forward.

Richard rejected all bad thoughts and decided to live the moment. He stretched out his hand towards Paul, and when he grabbed him, Richard pulled the guitarist to himself.

Paul drowned his face into Richard's neck, kissing him softly.

"Why did you get out of bed on your own? Yesterday you couldn't get up on your feet." Paul asked carefully, feeling Richard touching his shoulders and starting to massage them gently.

"I felt better."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. It's all right. You don't mind seeing me naked?" Richard asked, with a little smile on his face.

"Richard, I've seen you naked a thousand times. But we shouldn't be doing this in a convent, everyone can see us here." Paul looked over his shoulder carefully, making sure the door was closed.

Richard took a step back. He knew Paul was right. He couldn't cross that border, although he wanted to.

He reached for the shampoo and poured a little bit on his black hair, still feeling Paul's eyesight on his body.

"What happened yesterday..." Paul broke the silence, making Richard stop foaming the shampoo on his head and stalled waiting for the rest of the speech. "This really happened? I mean, do you still think so."

Richard smiled and flushed off the shampoo, opening his mouth, letting the water pour in. Then he rubbed his eyes and turned to Paul.

"Yes. I still think so, and I'm not going to change my mind yet. Well, unless you feel bad about it." He answered.

Paul denied it with a quick nod.

"Of course not. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't dreaming, Reesh."

Richard felt like he was under surveillance. If some monk is about to come out of the corner and he'd probably be very surprised. He wanted to kiss Paul so much, but then he heard heavy footsteps and after a while a big wooden door opened with a clash and Schneider stood in the doorway, wearing only his underwear and with a cassock and a towel in his hand.

When Richard saw him, he had the impression that something heavy hit him in the head. He felt dizzy. He was theatrically wobbly, forcing Paul to grab his arm.

Schneider raised his eyebrow.

"I see you guys got up exceptionally early." He said with irony, going inside and closing the door behind him.

Paul still held Richard by his shoulder, and without taking his eyes off Christoph, he gave the guitarist a towel so he could wrap it around his hips.

"We can no longer leave the morning masses. Richard felt better. He can walk. When we change, we go for breakfast." Paul explained, and Richard thought it was a good idea to thank him for keeping a cool head in this situation. Paul sounded very convincing, as if nothing had happened, which somewhat confused Schneider, because he didn’t expect such an answer.

He looked at them suspiciously, then nodded his head and went into the shower, but every now and then turned around and watched as Paul helped Richard to dress up.

"Can you help me with that?" Richard asked, pointing to his long cassock.

"Of course." Luckily, Paul, already dressed, kneeled down in front of Richard and started buttoning it up one by one, angled at the eye, seeing that Schneider is still watching them.

Richard felt a growing tension as Paul was once again on his knees, but the awareness that the drummer was in the room with them was terrifying. Richard tried his best to keep a serious face. He bit his lip hard.

Schneider finally turned his eyes over and took off his pants, to which Paul reacted with theatrical outrage to put Christoph’s watchfulness to rest.

"Do you have to do it so shamelessly, in front of us?" He growled at Schneider, what made Christoph opened his eyes wide, because he wasn't expecting it again. Paul looked disgusted and angry at the same time. "Have mercy, man." Paul hissed, pinning on the last button of Richard's cassock, and after a while he led him out of the bathing room, and Richard, in an equally learned way, started pretending he’s limping on his wounded leg.

* * *

"I assure you, everyone will be at Mass this morning. You have my word." Till tried with all his might to convince Sister Berengaria that the whole band will attend all the meetings from this day forward and will not miss any opportunity to pray. "Surely Father Richard feels better and will be able to come... and will be able to come on his own."

"Are you sure he's all right? It didn't look good yesterday." Sister Berengaria was walking through the corridor with Till with a worrying face, and he tried to be serious and not let anything in the world get to know that he was afraid of how Kruspe would behave again after the last time Till had to force him to pray at the altar.

"I assure you everything is fine." Till put a smile on his face, and there was hope on the nun's face. She touched his arm and smiled wide.

"I admire how you take responsibility for everything they do. It's so wonderful. You're a shepherd to them, son. It's good that they have such a role model. It's very important, especially for young priests who want knowledge, want to learn, to know who to follow in life." She said, still smiling.

Till sighed deeply, remembering how many times he had to save their asses. Starting with defending Flake when they were arrested in the US, and ending with helping Richard take care of his own children. There was always something to do, and Till was already used to being a father in the band. Maybe because he was the oldest?

Sometimes he wanted Schneider to take over as a leader, but all Christoph did was complain or hide behind his own drums, saying he had no leadership skills.

"Yes. They are absorbed in knowledge, although sometimes they lack self-discipline." Till purrred under his nose. He was going to say they're not as young as they look, but he gave up at the last minute. He couldn't tell the secret. He was glad nobody recognized them until now.

Sister Berengaria stopped by the door leading to the room that Schneider shared with Richard and Paul. She turned to Till and started talking:

"I have a big request. I would like you to lead the mass today. All the clergy and nuns from the nearby abbey will be there. It's very important for the locals that you get even closer to us."

Till stared at the wooden door for a while until he finally understood what the nun wanted from him. He shaken his mind and opened his eyes wide. He didn't know what to say. It all seemed so grotesque to him. Trying to be serious, he made sure he wasn't a good choice

"I'm not sure I can." Till said quietly.

"I'm sure you can. You can do it perfectly."

Till was a declared atheist, but he thought it was extremely rude of him to refuse that old lady who took them in with such mercy and kindness and looked after them like her own sons.

Sister Berengaria noticed a dilemma on Till's face. She took the rosary off her neck and pressed it into his hand.

"Please don't refuse me. This will be a wonderful new experience." She said.

Till felt a strange warmth in his heart. He thanked her, then pushed the wooden door and went inside to call the band members to the mass.

Inside was Richard, who was styling his hair and Paul with a bottle in his hand. As Till noticed, it was a whisky bottle.

Lindemann was speechless, wondering if the nun was old enough to look as she looked, and therefore if she had poor eyesight to not notice the bottle.

Till felt he's losing his legs and he's getting weak.

Paul was frozen, still holding the bottle in his hand, and Richard didn't even realize that someone was standing at the doorway.

"Kruspe!" Till yelled, but having remembered the presence of the nun, he changed his version a little. "Father Richard, what are you doing?"

The guitarist turned towards Till and opened his mouth to say something, but Paul was quicker and the rest of the strength he decided to save the situation.

"He's checking for lice." Paul said.

Richard wrinkled his forehead, looking at Paul with displeasure.

Sister Berengaria didn't pay attention to the bottle Paul was holding, but she was terrified.

"Lice? In our abbey? I have to tell all the clergy immediately to check whether or not they have them."

"I have no lice!" Richard yelled out, sending Paul _you're already dead_ look.

"I think Brother Paul has checked Richard for lice already." Schneider emerged from Till's back, with a victory smile on his mouth.


	16. The Devil's playground

Sister Berengaria stared at Richard and Paul with huge amazement on her face. She couldn't imagine that there could be any lice or other bugs in this order. After all, all the priests were very concerned about order!

Meanwhile, Till, unable to stand Schneider's behaviour any longer, decided that he had a chance to finally do something about it. At first he didn't intend to refuse the old nun what she asked him to do. Till had problems with anxiety about the crowd, often he couldn't just go out and start talking to someone else. That's why Rammstein, starting his career on the music scene, came up with the idea of pyrotechnics at concerts. The visual effects were supposed to distract attention from the vocalist's, but the result was completely the opposite. Although the twenty-five-year-old routine adapted Till to perform in front of a large audience, here he found himself in a completely new role. In this case he had nothing to hide behind. Fortunately, fate turned out to be merciful for him and there was an opportunity to save himself from unnecessary stress and at the same time punish Schneider for his behaviour.

As Richard discussed his hair care rituals in great detail, trying to convince his sister that there are no lice, Till waited for the right moment to tell Christoph that he would lead the mass today. But this time not everything went as it should. Sister Berengaria let her convince Richard, but when she left the room, she tripped over a bottle of whisky lying on the floor. The same one that Richard and Paul drank last night.

Sister Berengaria would have almost fallen on the floor but Till was fast. Very fast so he caught her at the last minute, and Richard kicked the bottle under the bed in one movement, drowning out the sound of glass with a fake sneeze.

The nun fixed the glasses on her nose, looking around carefully.

"Thank you, brother. I would have broken my knee. I am so clumsy!" She laughed frankly and reverently at what Till sighed deeply, cursing in her mind and repeating the immortal "it was so fucking close."

"I'll walk you out, sister." He suggested opening the door wide, but Sister Berengaria swung her hand and said:

"There is no need. I can handle it. I leave you, dear brothers, in peace of spirit." After these words, she smiled kindly again and left the room.

Everyone except Christoph was very relieved to breathe.

Till was impressed to sit on Richard's bed and wipe the sweat from his forehead with his hand.

"Another stunt like that won't pass. I understand this is a new situation for you, you're scared and you can't quite get into the new roles yet, but I beg you, if you have to drink, do it so as not to leave any traces behind!" He yawned at two guitarists, of whom only Paul showed any guilt, while Richard parade proudly around the room like a peacock, with a cigarette in his hand, which he dug out of his suitcase. He picked up a long cassock and put his hand in his pants pocket looking for a lighter. He was going to smoke it.

Till lifted his eyebrows not so much in an expression of surprise as of helplessness.

"You gotta be kidding me." He said to Richard.

Kruspe looked at him with a reproach, still holding the cigarette in his two fingers, then he turned around and looked at Paul as if he wanted to make sure Lindemann was talking to him.

"What do you mean?" He asked, with amazement, discovering he'd lost his lighter somewhere. Without waiting for Till's answer, he immediately took his suitcase from under his bed again and began to search in it.

"Are you crazy?!" Till screamed, feeling his nerves are at the edge again that day.

Richard was looking at Till, surprised as if he didn't understand why the singer was angry at him. Finally he managed to find a lighter and was about to open a window to smoke, but Till pulled a cigarette out of his hand and broke in half. That was enough to make Richard angry.

"I think you're the one who went crazy. What did you do with my cigarette?!" He screamed.

Paul calm so far fought his inner demons to avoid defending Richard and giving Schneider in the room any reason to be suspicious. He knew that Christoph was watching him attentively from the morning.

"Where did you get that bottle?" Till asked, after he took two deep breaths to help soothe his broken nerves. He decided to wait and give Richard a chance so he could explain everything.

"What bottle?"

"Don't act like an idiot. The one under your bed."

Richard smiles nasty. Mostly he didn't like to annoy Till, unlike Schneider, but this time he thought Lindemann had clearly crossed the line of morality by breaking his cigarette.

"I took it from home. But don't worry. I have six more in my suitcase." Richard replied with a triumphant expression on his face, on which he already had a few days' beard. It made Till raise his eyes to the sky and laugh nervously.

"No, this isn't really happening." Richard's words didn't leave him, still tingling in the back of his head. Till sighed and wiped his eyes like he wanted to squeeze the sand out of his eyelids. "You want to destroy the whole operation? You know perfectly well that priests don't drink alcohol. If Sister Berengaria saw what she would say?"

"She's blind like a bat." Richard burked, trying to get another cigarette out of his pants. "It's my business what I do. No one else has seen it. I forgot to hide that bottle, I admit. My mistake. Next time I'll throw it away so there's no trace of it."

"You forgot to hide the bottle. What were you so busy with?" Schneider, who had been silent until then, and was slowly starting to make quick bills in his head, asked.

Paul moved anxiously, focusing on himself the sight of the drummer, who narrowed his eyes, and the corner of his mouth moved upward, creating an ironic half smile.

"I was... drunk." Richard lied knowing that Paul could get stressed out and start talking some nonsense with fear of Till. He thought it's better to get ticked off from Lindemann rather than admit that he spent last night in bed with Paul and listen to Schneider screaming starting with _That's disgusting!_ and _I hate you!_ on finish.

Till sighed again, putting Richard's alertness to sleep and got up from guitarist's bed heading for the door. He looked around the room and thought for a moment. He turned to Richard and said:

"If I see any bottle of alcohol again, or see you drunk, or smell vodka, whiskey, mass wine, anything that has a percentage, I'm warning you, I'm gonna take the consequences that you won't recover." After those words, he opened the door and called Schneider. "Christoph, we need to talk."

Schneider kept an eye on Paul, with whom he had been fighting an eye battle for two minutes, and to his surprise, he noticed that Landers was not going to give up. What's more, Paul watched him with a fierce expression on his face from which absolutely no emotion could be read.

In the end, the drummer gave up and, without trying to protest, he obediently followed Till.

It worked again.

* * *

When they found themselves behind the door, Christoph was not hiding his outrage at Till's attitude towards the guitarists. He didn't consider himself a bad person, but he was... well, he was himself.

"And is that all?" He asked with reproach, expecting some answer from Lindemann. "You won't punish them? You won't tell them anything?!"

Till, seeking an escape from the gaze of Schneider's steel eyes on one side and his raised eyebrows on the other, decided to go down to a safe level and put his own head down. Folded his hands as if to pray, knowing that at this hour the sisters and nuns were preparing for the morning mass, he slowly moved along a large corridor straight to the stairs. From there he intended to take a seat in the bench, in the chapel.

Schneider followed him, this time in silence.

It got loud in the corridor. The clergy were in a hurry to improve their habits, they wanted to make time for the morning liturgical reading before breakfast. Some had permission from the master to pray only at noon mass. The rustling of the habits echoed throughout the chapel. Till entered as one of the first and immediately took his place at the front, in the middle aisle. Next to him was Schneider, looking for the rest of the team.

"Where's Oliver and Flake?"

"Oliver is working in the garden, he's fired from morning mass, and Flake will arrive soon. Patience, Christoph. Patience. Patience is a virtue you've been missing a lot lately, don't you think?" Till said in a wise tone, which Schneider reacted to with a snout.

"You're crazy. You talk just like them. Have you forgotten you're an atheist?" He growled.

"I consider this to be an experience of a higher dimension of spirituality. I have respect for people. And for these people, this place is important. You have to behave according to their etiquette. Don't forget, Schneider, we're guests here. I may be an atheist, but that doesn't mean I can't show respect for those clerics who, unlike you lazy bastards, work hard for bread."

Schneider shaken his head in disbelief. Someone's liturgical book fell, and there was a loud echo in the chapel. He suddenly moved his eyes to the altar.

Till was happy that the mass was beginning and that Schneider would stop asking stupid questions. According to Till, Christoph always considered himself better than the rest of the band because of his background and family. As he claimed, before his fortyth birthday he intended to play in an orchestra and spend the rest of his musical career there. Fortune, however, was not kind to him and decided to give him a different concept. Christoph was a drummer in a metal band, although his mother wanted him to play in an orchestra.

Till remembered the time of Mütter era, when they spent almost the entire recording process in an old house in Heiligendamm, Germany, and the band almost broke up by Richard, because everything had to be under his dictation. But Schneider was much worse. There were no kitchens or even bathrooms in the building, the band had to arrange the furnishings themselves, only Richard didn't get down to work and Christoph to clean up. But he criticized, checked the level of cleanliness, and pointed out the laziness to others with unearthly excitement.

Then for the first time even Till felt really small and insignificant, because Schneider was so... angelic. As if he was alive to descend from a picture of a saint. He was tall, stiff, with statuesque beauty, strong cheekbones and cold eyes. He considered himself fair, though he had nothing to do with justice.

When one day Christoph came to the makeshift recording studio, where Till worked hard on the lyrics, writing as many as twenty-three versions of the same song (and only twenty-three versions of the same song were liked), he looked around the whole room, then passed Richard's smoking hundredth cigarette, opened the window and said it was time to clean up, because it was a mess. Till busy with the text didn't pay much attention to it, so Richard replied that if Christoph was disturbed by the dirt, he could take a rag and clean it up. For this, Schneider's narrow eyebrow went up the stately forehead. And although from an anatomical point of view it seemed impossible, the eyebrow climbed even higher, and the higher it reached, the more Till collapsed, shrinking like a sock in a drip.

Then Christoph sighed suggestively, came up to Paul's guitar standing in a corner and ran over it with his long finger. He stared at Till for a while and then, with an eloquent gesture, presented him with a gray streak of dust and disgrace.

Till thought about one thing - Schneider hasn't changed since then, he even became worse.

The chapel has been immersed in prayer. The clergy and nuns started to pray.

_A blazing sun has been created_

_And it makes hearts repentant;_

_There is no more room for sin,_

_When a witness to the deeds is light._

_May the brightness bring forth the weather._

_And it will make us clean,_

_Let our hands, look_

_And the whole body doesn't sin._

_We glorify the Father and the Son,_

_And the Spirit, the Giver of Consolation;_

_Let there be glory forever_

_Our God and the Lord. Amen._

Christoph looked at his watch. It was seven o'clock. He was terribly hungry. He felt his stomach buzzing. And there was a mass and contemplation waiting for him. What's that contemplation for? Kneeling is a very painful for knees.

Till, when he saw Schneider looking around, he was definitely hitting him with his elbow.

"Don't think. Keep in touch with God. Consider it, Christoph. Think about it. Consider..."

So Schneider thought he'd rather eat something.

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind Lindemann, Paul noticed that Richard looked at them intensely and stood still, without the slightest blink of an eye, and his lips were clenched in a narrow line.

Paul, hearing the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway, which were getting quieter and quieter, made sure that Till and Christoph were getting a safe distance. With no thought, he walked up to the wooden door and turned the key in the lock so that no one would be disturbed this time.

Richard was still standing, and still with an unspeakable look on his face, he stared at Paul as if he were a ghost.

"Reesh?" A voice familiar to him had penetrated Landers's subconscious, but he heard it strangely. This feeling made him think of diving underwater when someone is standing on the shore and talking, and the words are trying to break through the surface. "Reeshy?" Paul tried it again. "Are you angry with me?"

"I'm not angry. I'm thinking." Richard said. And there was something. His spirit was far from here, somewhere in the northeast of Germany, in a recording studio. He could almost feel the hardness of the guitar strings under his fingers, and he could hear the harsh sounding riffs, and his mind started to go crazy, recreating in his head the initial notes of Reise Reise.

He wrinkled his eyebrows and his eyesight moved to Paul.

"By being here, I feel like this is some kind of madhouse. It's all so... normal. These monks... get up in the morning when it's dawn, go to pray, some go to a nearby town to teach the children of these poorer people, some stay here, working, growing vegetables, and raising animals. All on their own. They live in one big community, they respect each other. For an ordinary person it's a bit like a prison, but from my perspective, they are free. While we are chased by deadlines, concerts, rehearsals, recording albums, music videos, working on the text, constant pursuit of self-improvement and only contact with fans makes me feel that what we do is worth it, because people appreciate it. We are dependent on them. It's up to them whether we succeed or whether they want to listen and watch us."

Paul took a hard breathe, trying to find the sense of the words Richard said, but he didn't see the point.

"What's the problem?"

"You know what our life is like. We go out on stage, we play the show, we play for people, and then after the concert we go back to the grey reality, which, compared to life here... is boring. It's like living in two realities. There is a certain hierarchy here, an ethics of behaviour, which you have to adapt to, but this serves the order of events. What about us? I've lived half my life in this whole crazy thing called Rammstein. Fire, leathers, studs, chains, and at home slippers and tracksuits. Don't you feel weird about all this?" Richard asked, looking at Paul, who was slowly starting to get lost in Kruspe's multiplicity of words.

"Reesh, we're free. Rammstein was created because we all dreamed of freedom, of a better life, of a decent life. The band was born naturally, we didn't win any damn casting or talent show. No one promoted us, it was just our hard work."

"Yes, but times have changed. Now, to stay among the best, you have to try. Besides, taxes, all the bureaucracy, all the events..."

Paul came up to Richard and petted him on the cheek, and Richard cuddled his face into Paul's warm hand, breathing in his unique smell.

"Don't worry about it. Think about what's now. Don't forget that..."

"That we are here to survive."

* * *

After the morning mass all the priests slowly started to get off their knees and head towards the refectory for breakfast. Schneider smashed a sore leg with his hand and he said something about the pain that Till pretended not to hear.

He went ahead, in front of Schneider, whose strange facial expression was observed by Sister Berengaria, whom she was assisting with the liturgical reading that day.

"Why are you so sad?" She asked, approaching Christoph, gently touching his shoulder.

The drummer turned around and looked at an old, small woman who was staring at him with a worried face.

Christoph said that if he didn't talk to someone, he would lose his mind and go crazy. He had nothing to lose, he wanted to be heard.

"Does the sister... does the sister think there is friendship in the convent?" He asked at once, wasting no time, even though he had plenty of it here. "I can't stop thinking about it."

Sister Berengaria smiled even more kindly.

"It's not that easy to explain, brother."

"Please tell me." He begged.

The nun fixed her glasses and carefully pulled Christoph towards the exit.

"You see, in monasteries, the relationship between priests is specific. There are some unwritten rules that depend on a given spiritual community. But there is one main one that we should follow. No individual friendships. Relationships are meant to be common, because a monastery is a community. If you want to go for a walk with a clergyman on Sunday, go with a different one every time. Talk to everyone, to none more often, to none longer. This is what brotherhood and sisterhood in Christ should look like. You'll probably ask why. Because it's received. The Master of the Monastery doesn't explain it. There is no custom of explaining rules, regulations and orders. Brother Leonard thinks so. This is the way it's supposed to be."

Schneider thought of himself repeating in his head the words he just heard. What's his point? Richard and Paul have only one connection. It's only natural that they want to spend as much time as possible with each other, playing in the same band. But there's something more between them, there must be something more.

"There's no one in the convent to talk to about doubts. And Brother Leonard's answer will always be the same - you must pray it. You must suffer. Brother Leonard has a very specific and strict approach to these matters. Like most priests here. Brother Leonard believes that God gave his life for him, so he must give his life to those who have no help from nowhere. Forgotten and rejected. The sisters are different, more open to talk. But men don't want to share their worries with us. It's unnatural to them. They trust each other more."

"You said that the monastery is one community."

"Son, it's been like that for a long time, there is, and will be, that a woman will never become equal to a man. That is the doctrine of the Christian church. That's how it's established. We are a community, we work together, we help each other and lead masses together, but a woman will always be lower in hierarchy than a man. Brothers don't usually talk to sisters in their free time, they talk when their work requires it."

Christoph knew that the behaviour of Richard and Paul therefore didn't arouse any suspicion in the eyes of the other clergy; they decided that guitarists simply share a specific bond based on the understanding of souls and do not want to share their thoughts and problems with others. There was nothing strange about that in their eyes. The idea of the Order is that it is a great happiness to be able to tell someone what you are experiencing.

"I look at you and see this ideal patriarchal model, Brother Till is your unwritten leader, and you like a pack of sheep obediently follow him, learn from him, do as well as he does. But unlike our local clergy, you talk to everyone. Only yesterday I saw Brother Oliver, he had a very long conversation with the local shepherdess. It's beautiful."

Schneider straightened up as if someone had stuck a dagger in his back.

**Oliver talked to a woman?**


	17. The Executioner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schneider does everything he can to open Till's eyes, while things get complicated and Till lacks the strength for everything. Then the reliable Flake comes to help.  
Oliver loses his spirit and realizes he's a rather bad clergyman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!  
Graphically depicted violence  
Religious threads and quotations from the Bible

Over the next few hours, the wind clearly took on a strong force and the whole sky, all the way to the horizon, was covered with clouds of hollow shapes. The monks had to finish their work earlier, so most of them went to their rooms to pray, while a few were on duty in the kitchen. The castle became quiet again, only muffled thunders announcing another storm could be heard in the distance.

Till managed to convince sister Berengaria that the right time to lead a mass is evening. He had a few hours to prepare well for it. He didn't like to improvise, he always had to have the script written in advance - then he felt confident and not afraid that anything would surprise him. Till Lindemann definitely didn't like surprises. Every performance of the band was carefully planned and discussed. Every detail was worked out. Till was brainstorming day and night to surprise the audience, give them even more wow effect and joy from the concerts. He wanted to be an artist with his whole self, his whole soul, his whole body. Sometimes he had the impression that the rest of the band members did not understand him, except Richard. Richard had a mania of control, and he wanted to feel needed with all his might. When he had a bad day, he was talking about artistic suicides, so Till was comforting him, and he was encouraging him to continue working together. Richard was addicted to creating. Till admitted it was the healthiest of all addictions Richard have had.

Till was driven by an artistic impulse most of his life. The desire to satisfy social demand. He wanted to give people what he felt. He wanted to show people what he felt in his heart. It wasn't always a positive response, but Till at least tried. He didn't necessarily want to be understood. He wanted to share his view of the world. A world that seemed terrible and vile to him. filled with hatred, pain, distress and sadness. When he met Rammstein's fans who approached him after the concert and thanked him for such a wonderful performance, he felt a warmth in his heart that he had not experienced in any other way. Till like nothing in the world wanted to be understood and loved.

Living with Richard taught him patience. Because Richard, as the superior diva in the band, had his own moods. And despite the fact that he was physically male, he had a half-womanly psyche; he was sensitive, painted his nails and liked the details around him. On stage, he behaved like a real male. Aggressive guitar riffs became his hallmark. While he was very practical on stage and kept to his usual script, outside of it, especially during the process of making records or music videos, life was very difficult. No wonder, then, that only in a monastery - ironically! - Till found peace for his tired soul.

The evening mass was approaching with every clock sound, and Till was sitting over a piece of paper and wondering what the monks were saying at the mass. What do they start with? How do they pray? How is he supposed to lead the Mass if he doesn't know all these prayers and psalms? Maybe he will at least have scripture in front of him?

He was getting more and more confused, crushed a piece of paper and pressed it into the fireplace, which he lit, because the room got terribly cold. The monks could only use the fireplace in late autumn and winter, but Till knew Sister Berengaria wouldn't mind. She was so good, so full of affection and love for people. She fulfilled her mission by serving people, regardless of age, background, race, or appearance. Till knew from the beginning as soon as he met her that cheating on her was terrible, but he couldn't tell her the truth. Usually liberated from all prudishness, a free Lindemann who could have anyone he wanted; women and men - now he felt strange, faced with the lie of such a charming person as sister Berengaria was. But he knew that his own life, and the lives of his colleagues, were more important than the truth at that moment. He promised himself that when all this was over, when he returned to Germany, he would write a letter to sister, explain to her why he did it, apologize and beg for forgiveness and blessing. But can an atheist beg for a blessing?

At first there was the Word, and the Word was with God, and God was the Word. It is the duty of the God-fearing monk to repeat day after day, steadily and humbly, this one and only fact from which the unmistakable truth can be drawn. The truth, before we face it, shows itself to us in advance in the errors of this world in a piece (how unreadable), and we should read its faithful signs with labor, even where they appear to us to be unclear and almost slipped by a will that is completely devoted to evil.

Till himself didn’t fully believe what he was doing, but for thirty minutes he had been praying in the chapel, wondering what he would do with his life when this whole nightmare was over. The concerts were a source of joy and money. Quite a lot of money. But what was the money here, behind the walls of the old monastery, where nothing has changed for centuries?

Kneeling on the stone floor, Till said he would never be able to pray in church, but everything was different here. He felt the spirit of the Inquisition. He felt sorrow for the sins that were almost pouring out of the stone walls surrounding the church. The day was gloomy, it was raining outside, and the drops hit the roof, spilling over the colored stained glass windows of the chapel.

Till stared with his eyes wide open at the great cross and Christ on it, silently moving his mouth, praying over and over again, asking for a return to normality.

The door from the chapel opened with a clash and the Flake looked inside.

Till didn't break away from his prayer, but stopped moving his mouth. He waited. At first he was sure it was Schneider who came to complain again about Richard's behavior, but when he felt the hand on his shoulder, everything became clear. Only Flake touched him like this. That's how he showed his support.

"You here again? Wasn't morning prayer enough for you?" Flake asked, taking a seat next to Till, but he didn't kneel. He sat on a wooden bench and started looking at Lindemann.

"I had to think a little. I wanted to be alone." Till answered and closed his eyes. He looked terribly tired, it looks like something couldn't leave his mind.

"This has been happening to you a lot lately."

Till moved his shoulders.

"I feel an urgent need to... to understand this place. And the best thing to do is to imitate others."

Flake looked at him for a moment with pious seriousness, then he looked at the altar, at the crucified Christ, at his crown of thorns. Then he looked at Till again. The singer didn't have to say anything, Lorenz knew he was suffering.

"Something's happening to you, Till. I want to help you, you can trust me and you know it."

"You don't have to. I can handle it."

Flake shaken his head in disbelief. He was too old and too mature not to guess that Till's been pulling some powerful emotions.

"Don't lie to me, I can see how strange you're acting. You're an atheist, you never go to church, you even despise religion, and now you kneel here and pray like an old monk. What's happening to you? You want to tell me something?"

Till put the rosary in his pocket and slowly got up from his knees, forcing Flake to tilt his head back, because Till was higher than he was when he stood.

"The less you know, the better you sleep." After these words, he slowly turned around and with his hands crossed as if to pray, he moved to the exit of the chapel.

Suddenly Lorenz almost jumped out of the bench and followed Till, then grabbed him by the habit and started pulling in opposite direction. Considering Till's weight and height, it was a difficult task, but Flake was stubborn. He survived the school persecution, he survived Feeling B with Paul, and he will survive this too!

He relentlessly pulled Till in an attempt to stop him, but Lindemann, unstopable, only turned his eyes over and continued to push forward, pulling Flake like a dog on a leash.

Eventually Flake managed to catch the baptismal font, forcing Till to stop.

The mighty body stood up and looked at Lorenz with undisguised surprise.

"Now you're gonna tell me the truth about what happened, that you've become a profoundly believing clergyman. And I will listen. As always, by the way." Flake said, approaching Lindemann and shuffling him from the front.

The corners of Till's mouth went up. _Oh, naive man!_ With one movement of his muscular hand, he moved Flake to the side and again intended to move to the exit, but Flake grabbed him by the habit right under his throat, and a moment later, he punched him hard in the face. Although it didn’t knock Till off his feet, it effectively immobilized him, as Lindemann was unable to move due to the shock.

Lorenz's face was bony, distinctive features; a prominent and large nose; a tall and convex forehead; and his hair was rare in the temple area; besides, the effort was combed to the side. High eyebrow arches in connection with clenched lips gave his face an expression of extreme cruelty.

"So? What's happening? As a member of the team, I think I have a right to know what you're so scrupulously hiding under that mask of blessings and prayers for the souls of the damned. Tell me, Lindemann, before I lose my nerve."

"I'm struggling with my thoughts; I'm falling apart from all sorts of doubts and fears. I have strange feelings that I wouldn't dare confess even to my own soul. God help me, if only for the sake of those who are dear to me!" Till was the one who failed, forcing Flake to punch him in the face again.

"Stop talking bullshit and start to talk to me like a normal person!" He shaken Till up properly, brought him to order, until finally Lindemann gave up.

"I can't. I can no longer pretend to be the leader of this group. I'm not him and I never was. You all know that. I wasn't born a leader." Till fell to his knees and pulled the rosary out of his pocket. He started praying again.

Flake was even more surprised, but he thought Lindemann was just playing a strange game with him. It didn't occur to him that Till is just tired and powerless and is trying to find his own path following all the religious.

"Are you crazy?"

Till was silent staring at the stone floor, and kneeling on the stone was incredibly painful for him, but he thought it was part of their journey. Penance for their sins in prayer. He remembered all the harsh events. Oh, there was something to atone for.

Flake tried to lift Till off the cold floor, but he was too heavy.

"Till, please, stop it now. This is a difficult situation for all of us, but you can't break down. You're our leader, you go first, we follow you. It's always been like this!"

Till almost tears his hands shaking from powerlessness.

"I failed everyone. I let Sister Berengaria down. I let myself down, I let you down. I'm not a leader. I've lost. I am a monster."

* * *

The storm's getting stronger. The rain was pouring out mercilessly turning the yard into a huge puddle. Meanwhile, Richard was lying motionless after lunch and making noises. Lots of noises. He was moaning in pain.

"Paul... Paul..."

Landers raised his head from over the book.

"What do you want?"

"I think the seventh cake was a mistake..."

"Richard, you ate twelve cakes."

"But it was the seventh one that hurt me so badly."

Paul smiled a little, staring at Richard's face with his eyes closed. He absorbed that bliss and carelessness.

They were both soft-hearted, free and uninvasive, with no remorse that it would be appropriate to say something before it got really awkward. Paul was sipping his coffee and trying to focus on the history of the apostles, but Richard's groaning was effective in getting him off balance. His imagination was giving him more and more bold scenarios in which Richard could make such a sound of satisfaction from being above or below him...

"Maybe you want me to hug you?" Paul asked, taking the opportunity that Schneider left the room under the pretext of taking things to the laundry. So they had a moment to themselves. Paul was going to use it.

No one who saw them now would suspect that this man with a tattoo on his neck, beard on his chin and shiny eyes is so much in love with another man with sharp facial features, prominent lips and carbon black hair. It was like being against nature. It was against all applicable standards and rules. Not to mention the rules in the convent.

Richard put a gentle smile on his smile, and Paul leaned out of his bed, and a moment later he was next to his friend, carefully sitting behind his back, letting him lie down on his chest.

Kruspe took his place with a blissful sigh, pressing his head into Paul's neck, gently kissing his sensitive skin.

"That was nice." Paul closed his eyes, giving himself a pleasant feeling of safety and warmth that spilled over his body.

"And this?" Richard leaned gently on his elbows, kissing on Paul's cheek, getting closer to his mouth.

"Reesh, Schneider can come back at any time. We shouldn't do that."

Richard turned his eyes over and moved away from Paul.

"And the fact that I'm lying on you is okay? I can't kiss you? I really want that, why can't I?" He asked with reproach.

Paul sighed, touching Kruspe's cheek. Without thought; without hesitation reached out and ran his fingers against the hair at Richard’s temple. He examined the feel of the hair against his skin, as he slowly trailed his fingers along his scalp to its end. He closed his eyes.

"Never doubt for a second how amazing you are, Reeshy." Paul said gently.

"I’m going to kiss you now, Paul. I don’t fucking care if Schneider comes in. You’re the one I want. Right now." Richard closed the remaining distance, and pressed his lips against Paul’s. He wanted to fuck; to listen to the lovely way Paul moaned and screamed, but at the same time he wanted to caress; to romance; to adore him because he was one and only. His man. He didn’t even know how much he longed for this. He kept trying to convince himself that they didn’t belong together and yet so quickly it all fell into place.

The kiss was very intimate and gently.

Richard moaned quietly and he broke the kiss.

"How much longer will it take? I want you to finally be mine." He gasps.

"A little longer. I promise I'll do anything to make you happy when this will be over."

"Things have got complicated, Paul. It'll never be the way it was before. What will we do about it? I don't want to disappoint you in any way. I don't want the Rammstein to fall apart because of me. I feel terrible already. I feel guilty. I'm so happy with you... but this is against everything. I'm not gay."

"We already talked about it. Neither do I. But I can't explain that I care about you. There's something between us, Richard, and we have to face it, we're adults."

* * *

Oliver spent the whole afternoon placing the chopped wood in a neat pile in the semi-open woodshed brought in by the monks last autumn and protecting it from the rain with a tarpaulin. Afterwards, he took a cursory look, improved his habit and marched into the garden to get the tools he used every day to dig in the ground and grow plants and vegetables.

After referring to the box, one of the friars asked him to bring some necessary articles, without which the evening meal couldn't take place. So ten minutes later, with two ten-kilogram sacks of potatoes to maintain relative balance, ten kilograms of onions and five litres of milk, Oliver moved slowly to the castle kitchen, losing the potatoes that were falling out of the hole in his bag after a while.

When he reached the cloisters stretching along the gastronomic part of the monastery, where behind the wall there was a large dining room and a hot kitchen, he saw a standing girl who was protecting herself from the rain, stretching a soaked white scarf over her head. He recognized a shepherdess in her, which he met recently. According to ethics, he went up to say hello, putting bags filled with potatoes and onions on the ground, making sure they wouldn't get wet in the rain.

"Hello, dear child. Why are you getting wet here instead of going inside? It's a terrible downpour, you'll get a cough!" Oliver said. He was kind by nature. He liked people and animals. Unlike the grumpy Flake, withdrawn Till, malicious Schneider, or egocentric Richard, Oliver always liked to help others.

The girl turned her back hearing Ollie’s voice and a big and sincere smile appeared on her face. She was surprised to meet him, but seemed very pleased.

"We, the ordinary faithful, cannot enter the monastery unless it is an emergency. And since I'm not hurt, I have to wait here until the rain stops." She answered truthfully by twisting a wet scarf, from which the water dripped and formed a huge puddle at the girl's feet.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was grazing the sheep, as I do every day, and when the weather started to get darker and changed, I led them to the farmhouse, but before I closed it it comes the rain. I had no time to return to the village."

Oliver was worried that the girl might get sick. When he took a closer look at her, she was soaked. Her shirt was unbuttoned, heavy from the water and almost transparent, showing the absence of a bra, which the bass player immediately pointed out, and not very large but very shapely breasts came to the fore. Oliver immediately wanted to touch them, but he stopped. The friar is not comfortable with such behaviour. Besides, he hardly knew her. What could she have thought of him? That he was ruled by wild lusts.

She was beautiful. Natural, young, fresh. Calm and nice. She was smiling at people, helping for free. And this bust... Oliver remembered he hadn't had sex with anyone in a long time. He didn't feel a woman's body. He didn't feel warm, he didn't feel excited. Until now. Something burned in him again.

He decided to take the girl with him, protect her from the rain and look at those breasts hidden behind a wet shirt for a while.

"Come inside, my child. You'll warm up in the castle kitchen."

"Vivien." She said, and his cheeks became red.

"W-what?"

Stop gawking at her tits, man!

"My name is Vivien."

"Vivien… Beautiful. I’m Oliver."

* * *

The evening mass was coming inexorably close. Till marched through the corridor, step by step, did not slow down for a moment, and his cheeks were burning from the hits that Flake had served him. He would have been an idiot if he hadn't accepted sister Berengaria's request. She hoped for him from the beginning, treated him with such kindness as he could only dream of. She was more merciful than his band mates. At least she didn't beat him in the face.

When Till arrived at the door from his room, his eyes were caught in the open bedroom door of the other three, so he went to eavesdrop on a reliable spying principle.

He carefully stuck himself to the wall and moved his head to the crack in the door. He saw Paul and Richard through it, who were discussing something, gesticulating heavily. He tried to listen to what they were talking about, but then the bell rang, summoning the monks to mass.

Till sighed. He gathered his courage and went inside.

Richard and Paul froze to a standstill, staring at him with their eyes wide open.

"Get ready, the mass is about to begin. Enough of this laziness, you must be on it. Otherwise, sister Berengaria will suspect something." He said in one breath. Apparently the shock therapy that Flake gave him worked and made Till feel like a leader again. As always, he had to fix Richard’s behaviour.

He looked at him carefully, and then he looked around the room for traces of alcohol or cigarettes. But the ashtray was empty and there were no bottles on the floor. Till gave himself a silent murmur of satisfaction and Paul could have sworn that Lindemann even smiled for a moment. Though of course he could have been wrong, blinded by Richard's beauty.

"Are you ready? This is going to be a very important mass. I want you to take it seriously. Ever since you've been here, you've been mess aroung with everyone here. These people are really kind to us, we should be grateful that they've given us shelter." Till thought one little reprimand had never hurt anyone before, and Richard needed to be treated hard that he wouldn't lose touch with reality.

Landers nodded his head.

Richard was speechless. He stared at Till with his mouth slightly open and could not believe his ears. As far as he could remember, Lindemann was a declared atheist. So how did he...? And why?

"In everyday life, we make a gift of ourselves through the gestures of a victim, often inconspicuous and hidden. You want to be credible? You must be saints. And to participate actively in the masses is a duty to strive for holiness. That's the essence of being in the order. That way you can get closer to God. Study your life and think about it, maybe you'll find the answers to all the questions you've been asking." Till spoke in a wise and calm tone, which took Paul's breath away, then he turned around and slowly walked out of the room. In the hallway, he almost collided with his rushing sister Berengaria, who was showing unhealthy excitement.

"Brother, I am so glad you agreed to lead the evening mass. It means a lot to us. Are you nervous? Not at all! I'll be next door if you need support. It'll be all right, just give yourself up to the Holy Spirit, and everything will work out." She said, smiling warmly. When she stood in front of Till, her tiny figure made her look like a completely defenceless creature, in round glasses, with an old but very nice face, with hands intertwined and resting loosely on her habit. She was the personification of human kindness.

Till felt strange. He was to celebrate Mass in front of almost a hundred monks who would watch and judge him. He didn't want that. But he didn't want to take the sister away either. He was desperately looking for help, looking around and then... Schneider came, who, completely exhausted after another day of hard physical work, had just come back from the laundry.

Till said that Schneider had a chance to compensate for his rude behavior, which Lindemann couldn't stand from the beginning of this trip.

Schneider didn't apologize for his behaviour, and he saw absolutely nothing wrong with it. And it didn't seem like he would apologize to anyone. However, he still insisted on his investigation and tried at all possible ways to open Till's eyes to certain things that Lindemann hadn't yet seen, although Schneider wasn't sure if Till simply didn't want to see them...

"Don't say you didn't notice." He spoke in a brazen tone, seeing Till still stuck in the doorway of the room with one ear. He didn't pay any attention to the nun standing next to Till. He could say what he wanted, sister Berengaria didn't speak German.

"What did I not notice?" Till wasn't going to get caught up in Schneider's games, but instead waited for him to tell him that he was going to lead the mass that evening as punishment. And he'll have to face the stress and challenge he's never experienced before in his life.

"You've got something wrong with your head. And your eyesight is not so good either. Our birds. Richard and Paul. I'm telling you, Till, something strange is going on out there. I can feel it. There's something between them." Schneider said with a serious tone of voice, which combined with his sharp facial features and prominent nose, was a very creepy effect.

"You're obsessed. But don't worry. You'll get a chance to rehabilitate yourself. So stop this bullshit because you have an important task ahead of you today. You will lead the evening mass. If you start protesting, I'll break your nose." Till doesn't care what Schneider thinks about him anymore. He went from asking to threatening, but he knew it would work. It has to work.

"Are you scaring me? There's nothing you can do to me. I'm untouchable behind these walls. Will you hit me in the presence of a nun? Come on. Do it!" Christoph came close to Till at a dangerously close distance, almost touching his front and waiting for any movement from Lindemann.

Till wasn't going to let himself be provoked.

Sister Berengaria, on the other hand, was worried about the tone of the conversation.

"Did something happen?" She asked her question firmly.

"No." Till smiled. "We only agree on the details of the evening mass. Unfortunately, I have voice problems, I'm afraid that brother Christoph will have to replace me, I'm not feeling well."

Hearing Lindemann's words, the malicious smile on Schneider's face began to gradually disappear until it turned into a grimace of discontent. Christoph was almost shaking out of his word, but Till seemed to be satisfied with this turn of events.

"Poor you. Maybe you should drink some milk and garlic, it always helps. It's great for the throat and immunity system. After mass, go down to the kitchen and take the whole pitcher." Sister Berengaria said and there was an expression of concern on her face.

Till felt like a winner. He breathed deeply that this time he managed to avoid embarrassment and stress. He didn't care how Christoph would manage, he could always explain to him that he was just an incompetent priest. In the worst-case scenario, Christoph will simply ridicule himself.

Schneider was still shocked and angry, but his innate fierceness pushed him forward like a bulldozer through a dense jungle of growing problems. Schneider was strong and confident, barreling and liked challenges. At first he panicked a little bit, after all he had never led a mass before and did not know how to do it, but after a short thought he decided that a mass is a great opportunity to drive out demons and clear them of certain sins. He had a perfect opportunity to discover the secret of Richard and Paul. With everyone.

_Now they won't deny themselves. They can't lie to us. I'll force them. I'll force them to confess. I'll win._

* * *

Whenever the wind came, carrying a change, Till would rush out with him and run ahead of him, just anywhere, ideally in the forest. He escaped from the problems of the band, from Schneider and his rudeness. Things started to overwhelm him, especially as Christoph was no longer in control of his behaviour and became the worst version of himself, but the rest of the band pretended not to see it.

To tell the truth, everyone was busy with their own affairs; Oliver was developing a relationship with a beautiful girl from the village, Schneider was investigating, and Richard was enjoying himself with Paul while everyone was sleeping. Only Flake stayed at the station so that Till wouldn't go crazy.

Till himself knew that the only thing that could save him from killing Schneider and falling into complete insanity was to follow the general rules of the monastery and imitate the behaviour of others. And so, together with Flake during a conversation in the chapel, after taking two blows to the face, they finally drew up a plan to help them survive. Flake promised that he would be next door when Till needed him, but Till was to become a full-blooded martyr and clergyman, to be followed by sheep as the rest of the band. This was also supposed to add realism, so that no one would get suspicious that the group of itinerant monks were actually members of a heavy metal band.

Flake knew that you can only win with Schneider if you ignore him and show patience, because Schneider fed on someone's fear and nerves like a nightmare.

So Till was given clear instructions on how to behave: to get to the monks during recreation. Listen to everyone out of interest, even if he was dying of boredom. During meals, show others that he refuses to do whatever he likes. Eat what he hates, namely meatless meals. In his free time, he is not to look in the library, not to read, but instead to offer constant help to other brothers and sisters. In the chapel, he is not to let Schneider distract himself during prayers. What matters in prayer is not to think, but to love!

And so, in the evening, when all the monks were already sitting on the benches, Schneider took a certain step into the lectern and took his place. Contrary to what Till expected, Schneider looked very confident. His spiteful smile was again on his lips.

One more moment, one more moment, and the whole monastery will find out about this dirty secret, hidden within the walls from the beginning as soon as they got here. Christoph had already imagined this shock on the faces of all those gathered, and his soul sang in a sweet voice about the victory. It didn't even occur to him for a moment that the whole action could simply come out and that they could be thrown out of the monastery at once. It didn't matter to Schneider, he just wanted to show Till that he wasn't as perfect a leader as he thought he was, since things were happening under his nose. Besides, his actions had a different bottom line; if they were thrown out, they would have to go back to Germany and Christoph would be home. He will see his wife and children. He did not think about the consequences.

He looked at the bible in front of him. He looked at the written notes right next to the book and smiled triumphantly. Everything was prepared. All he had to do was read and improvise a little. Nothing difficult. In fact, that's all he had been doing since the beginning of his life in the Rammstein, when they hadn't made any money yet and were living really poorly. So, what's difficult about leading a mass?

Till and Flake sat on the first bench, watching Schneider prepare for the biggest battle in his last days. Till was sure that Christoph couldn't handle the stress, but he didn't know how wrong he was.

Next to them, Richard and Paul sat down, seeing Schneider on the rostrum a bit surprised, but they didn't say a word.

Schneider looked through the whole room and stopped at Paul, then he squinted his eyes, made the sign of the cross and began a litany:

"When Jesus went out with the three apostles on the way between the Garden of Gethsemane and the Garden of Olives, soldiers with Judas appeared on the other side. Judas wanted to come to Jesus himself as a friend, and they were going to catch the one whom he would kiss." The beginning of the mass sounded darker, even more than Till could have expected.

Time passed, and Schneider spoke fluently, loud and low. Everyone seemed to listen to him carefully, as never before, sister Berengaria almost shone with pride and joy that the itinerant priests are so actively participating in monastic masses and not just working or praying in the chapel.

"When asked who they were looking for, they answered: _Jesus of Nazareth_. And he answered: _I am! You are looking for me!_ Then Judas came to him and kissed him saying: _Be greeted, Master._"

Richard moved nervously in the bench, rubbing Paul's elbow, by chance. But this one let go of his sight. For some strange reason he had the impression that Schneider was trying to call him Judas, and the whole mass was carefully planned to hit his relationship with Richard.

"Jesus said to him: _Judas, with a kiss you betray the son of God!_ And he was surrounded by soldiers. Judas wanted to run away, but the apostles stopped him." At that moment Christoph looked at Flake and Till, taking a break in his speech, which only made the atmosphere even more frightening, especially as there was a storm behind the windows and the air was pierced by powerful thunder from time to time. The sky rebelled, and Christoph triumphed internally. "Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss. If he hadn't done so, the soldiers would never have captured Jesus even though he told them who he was. They waited for an appointment."

For the next few minutes Schneider summarized exactly how the procession with the captured Christ was moving towards the city, how John had freed himself from his robes and escaped, and how Judas was paid for his betrayal. Each time he uttered the word "Judas," he looked at Paul with a penetrating eye, as if he intended to show others that this was where the traitor was sitting.

At first Paul couldn't be provoked, but with each sentence he was shaking more and more out of fear. He felt that Schneider knew everything. But when would he know? After all, he saw nothing, he heard nothing. Unless that night... the night Richard confessed that Paul was more to him than Schneider's friend. Nonsense! He was sleeping. He was asleep and snoring. Or was he pretending?

He had a headache from thinking. He smooched his temples with his fingers.

"Jesus was cruelly tormented in all directions, and Annaas spoke to him in a mocking tone: "_Who are you? Some king?_"

Twenty minutes later, when Schneider in his story reached the judgment of Christ and the release of Barabbas, Till thought he had enough. Sister Berengaria discreetly gave Schneider a sign that half the mass had already passed and that he should hurry.

Christoph turned on the sixth gear, and outwardly, a powerful thunderstorm banged.

"The cross usually brings to mind suffering and death. These are our first associations when we hear that word. They tell us: Take your cross in your arms! Then we think: I have to accept my pains, difficulties, troubles... It is difficult to experience the cross as an instrument of salvation, and yet the Cross for Christ was the key to paradise."

Till, whether willing or not, had to agree with Christoph for the first time this evening and for the first time in a few days. Everyone has to carry his cross... **but why is his cross the heaviest?**

"Jesus died on the cross for our sins. And you? What are you doing to get salvation?" At this point, Schneider came out from behind the lectern and began to walk in a malicious step to the left and then to the right of the hall, just before the people gathered in the benches, coming closer and closer to Paul and Richard. "The sin of adultery, one of the worst sins. There is the Lord always in the beginning. He makes sure everything goes as it should, and it's like in the beginning now, forever and ever, Amen. And the devil wants to change! Improve! He's not enough of a cow to calve. He wants it to be harvested. Where's it going? The cows will be harvested, the sun will rise in the west, and it will set in the east. Wolves will fly. The male will sleep with the other male."

Another thunder like in a cheap horror movie spread over the monastery walls, and Paul trembled as Christoph leaned over him with a bitter smile and sparkling eyes, he spoke:

"Sodomy and Gomorrah."

* * *

After the evening mass, when Sister Berengaria asked Christoph to bless the holy water, Richard and Paul took the opportunity to sneak out the back nave and get to the room as soon as possible. Richard had a plan in mind. He would take one of the bottles of whisky he had in his suitcase well hidden under his bed and go somewhere with Paul where he would have to recover after everything he heard.

Paul didn't have to say anything. It seemed that Christoph somehow found out about their dirty little secret.

Paul, terrified of the vision of the band's disintegration, could only get drunk and go to bed to wake up hoping that all this was his dream. How many times had he cheated like that? At least a few. From the beginning of his arrival at the monastery, he begged destiny to turn it all around somehow, to find himself back in Berlin, in a safe house, instead of sleeping on a hard mattress stuffed with straw and walking in uncomfortable clothes that would hinder his movements. Kneeling on a stone and praying for hours were not pleasant either. The only time he could breathe was in the evening, but even then he couldn't afford anything because Schneider watched him closely. And Richard was so close...

"We're all dead. Schneider knows." Paul panicked as soon as they were in the room.

Richard wasn't going to waste any time, so he pulled out his suitcase from under the bed and started digging into it, taking out more layers of clothes, until he finally felt the smooth glass under his fingers and the bottle's protuberance.

"He knows nothing. He wants to provoke us and scare us. Something's gotta be going on in his head. Maybe a solid hit in the face would help him, maybe an electrostimulation of the brain. Let's find some cable and do a little experiment in Dr Frankenstein's lab."

"Don't joke around like that. We need to think about what to do next. How about it, Till? What do the rest of you think? God, Flake is gonna throw up." Paul was definitely not in the mood for jokes, although Richard was trying to calm him down.

"Till won't believe it anyway, and even if he does, he'll probably accept us. Only Schneider has a problem with that. I don't think he knows anything, he's just lying, doing everything he can to get us out of here."

He took a pack of cigarettes out of the closet, checked his pockets to make sure he had a lighter and opened the door, inviting Paul to follow him.

"Why would he lie?" Landers was surprised.

"Because he wants to go home, and he can only do it if the action is stopped."

"The prosecution had a lot of work to hide us well, they need time to work out the gang that's hunting us, it's only been a few days since we can't go back now. They'll kill us!"

"Let's go in constipated. If there's a confrontation before the rest of the band, we'll make Schneider an idiot. We have no other choice." Richard said with a serious face.

The level of stress they've reached over the past week has become unbearable. First the scandal of homosexual subtext, which echoed among the radicalised groups, then the escape from Germany and the embrace of a sort of protection programme, and now Schneider as a persecutor. And it is now that Richard dared to confess to Paul, after twenty-five years, that he loves a man. That he loves his friend, a member of a team he could once unscrupulously drown. Now he was ready to give his life for him.

"Come closer to me. Don't worry, we'll get through this somehow. That's not the kind of thing we've done. I have a child with Till's ex-wife and he didn't kill me for it. It just shows how merciful he is. I think he'd take it too. You'll be fine, you'll see."

Paul, still shaking, literally fell into Richard's arms and hid his head in his chest. His habit smelled of mint cigarettes and perfume, which Richard got from Paul for Christmas. Paul loved that smell.

He lifted up his head and looked into his eyes, saw this fierce smile and for a moment believed it could really be fine. He felt Richard's warm lips. The kiss was everything he wanted since the evening started. It felt like heaven.

"It's not really happening. You traitors. I knew it, I was right!"

Paul turned around like a burn and saw Schneider standing in the doorway with a monk who neither Paul nor Richard had seen before. The Superior Father personally congratulated Christoph on a wonderful Mass and offered him an escort to the room and a short summary of the conversation. However, he didn’t expect to see the two men together.

Richard was embracing Paul with one hand and held a bottle of whisky and cigarettes in the other.

The superior father remained silent for a while staring at them. He was old, even older than his brother Leonard, with a long beard and a raw face. He had a dressed hood on his head.

"It's not like that." Richard started, but the friar interrupted him with a firm wave of his hand. He was terribly angry and shocked at the same time. He had seen more than one thing in his life on pilgrimage, but never something like this before. 

"There is a powerful sin in you that prevents you from letting Christ into your hearts. But the church has its own ways in everything, and mortification helps keep your desires under control." He spoke with a harsh tone. "Carnal mortifications can have blessed effects, this will bring the light of our Lord to you, you two awful misfits. You will be punished for your behaviour!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I come back after a long break and publish something that is quite emotional. Writing this story I climb to the heights of the grotesque and absurd, although I really want it to sound real. So that you can not only feel the attitudes of the characters, but also sometimes laugh, like the characters or not. By writing this, I really tried to convey the behavior of the characters, but overstated them. I'm sticking to the canon. I try to. I just sat down and thought: how would Till behave in such a situation? Or Schneider?  
2\. I hope you won't hate Schneider because of what he's done. I've squeezed out all the negative emotions that could be gathered in a desperate man, homesick and ready for anything.  
3\. I am not going to offend anyone with this story, especially Christian believers. I am one.  
4\. Who's your favourite character and why? Please, let me know in comments section.  
Love you all
> 
> P.S. Sorry for mistakes. It's really... late.


	18. Overdose of fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take me to church  
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies  
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a nutshell, this is one of the most difficult chapters I have written so far, although the worst is yet to come.   
I apologize for the amount of verbal and pictorial violence.  
But people sometimes argue like that, which doesn't mean they hate each other.  
Let me just develop this and don't blame me.  
P.S. to be clear, I'm against the violence that happens within the walls of some monasteries, and that's terrible, but it really happens...

_When you finally overcome the mountain that is in front of you, you will see four more on the horizon._

"You have sinned. I must judge your sin and chase away evil so that chastity may reign again." The superior father was almost shaking out of his anger, drawling bitter words through his clenched mouth. Unlike brother Leonard or sister Berengaria, he hated sinners and intended to clear the whole world of sin. And if he fails, he will at least cleanse his immediate surroundings.

Sister Berengaria was very merciful. She tolerated minor and major acts in the monastery and kept repeating that people should be forgiven and that if something should be condemned, it is sin, not man. However, Father Superior had a different opinion about this. He severely punished the monks for their lack of obedience, and when Sister Berengaria pointed out to him that the strength of religious orders is comradeship, he replied to her that a woman has no voice. Then Sister Berengaria went back to the monastery of nuns and she prayed, asking God to forgive the superior father. Ironically!

Paul, terrified, was still standing still cuddled up to Richard, who was impressed to drop a bottle of whisky. The glass was smashed into tiny pieces and the alcohole spilled all over the floor. Both couldn't move, they were too scared.

Schneider, on the other hand, stood behind of supervisor's father's back with a great satisfying smile on his face and waited for things to happen.

Richard finally took his hand off Paul's shoulder and moved away, trying to explain the situation.

"I didn't do anything." He replied.

"You broke your vows. The oaths you took. How can you not be ashamed?"

"But it's really not what it looks like."

It was too much. The superior's father, like a battering ram, broke into the room and looked at the suitcase protruding from under the bed, then opened it in one move and took out the rest of the bottles one by one. One, two and three. All full. The fourth one was smashed on the stone floor.

"Then how do you explain yourself from this?" He hissed and swung himself throwing one of the bottles against the wall. The next one he threw straight at confused Richard. The last bottle ricochetically hit Paul. All of them broke into tens of pieces, and a sharp smell of alcohol filled in the room.

Schneider opened his mouth out of shock, but was too surprised to say anything.

Richard, without interrupting his eye contact with the superior father, instinctively hid Paul behind him and decided to defend him at all costs. He was angry. He was humiliated enough by his daily prayers. The food wasn't the best, either, and the rest of the team was doing hard physical work; carrying heavy bags of flour, crates filled to the brim with vegetables, or doing laundry and mangling. Instead, they could be somewhere on a shared vacation, relaxing the tour, working on the album, which cost them a lot of nerves. And now they found themselves in a strange place, where they not only had to adapt to the rules, but also completely change their behavior and become someone different. That's what Richard hated. He hated pretending to be someone he wasn't. And he was... well. Just himself. He wasn't always able to behave properly because he was driven by extreme emotions. He was an artist.

First he was frightened, but he changed his mind when he turned to Paul to see if he was okay and saw a wound bleeding on Paul’s temple. It was caused by a heavy bottle.

Richard, not at all worried that the monk and Schneider were looking at him, wiped the wound with the sleeve of his habit.

"All right, it's nothing." Paul was strong. Not very tall, maybe, but he had a manhood in him that many men could envy. Masculinity and resistance to pain. He took back Richard's hand, which was stroking him on the cheek, and he moved away. "Reesh, I’m alright. You really don’t have to do this, please." Paul tried to sound not painful at all.

Kruspe got angry.

"This is your mercy? This is what a Christian does? You talk all the time about love for man, and you are full of hate for others. You promote violence and you stir people's minds." He growled, pointing his index finger at the tall monk in the hood in front of him. When he got close and wanted to say something, Richard jumped forward like an aggressive dog on a chain. "Don't you dare come near me, because I can't control myself."

Then Till came inside. It got crowded in the hallway, too, and the noise of broken glass brought back most of the curious monks and a few scared nuns.

"What's going on here?" Till looked around the room and the first thing he noticed, or actually felt, was the smell of alcohol in the air. When he looked under his feet, he saw broken glass, recognized the bottles and knew it was whiskey belonging to Richard. Then he moved his gaze to Paul, who was wiping blood from his face with his own habit. Then he looked at Richard and there his eyes stopped. Till could have sworn that this laughing and over-sensitive guy, who liked the company of children on a daily basis and preferred a comfortable tracksuit instead of spiked clothes with studs, was the mildest man he knew. Well, except maybe Oliver and Paul. Now the same guy was standing with his hands wide apart as if he was preparing for a big battle, breathing shallow and his eyes were burning with aggression and hatred.

Till felt the thrill somewhere around his spine.

"Will someone tell me what happened here?" He turned to Schneider standing in the doorway, who couldn't get a word out of himself.

"This monastery has existed for hundreds of years. For more than seven hundred years there hasn't been a similar situation here, all the monks have served God and done their duty, and since you came here, sin has come with you. I will not let you destroy this holy place. Not this way." Monk hissed again and then he turned to Till. "This man has done something terrible. He got lost in his own sin. But I'm here to help him get back on track. I vowed to turn lost souls back, so I will." The Father Superior spoke, pointing his hand at Richard and then turning to him and changing the tone, he gently added, "May the Holy Spirit pour a little oil into your head than you have right now, my son." Then he went out, leaving the door open, until Sister Berengaria fell in, and seeing Paul shaking out of anger but also of fear, she immediately approached to see his wound.

"My God, he did it again. My dear son, don't worry, I'll help you." And saying this, she took out a cloth handkerchief from her habit pocket, which she then soaked in a cauldron of water that hung over the fireplace and was usually used to boil water for tea.

Richard didn’t intend to give up. He got to Till and grabbed him by the habit right under his neck.

"Let's end this farce, Lindemann. Let's end this, tell them who we are and let's end this whole nightmare because I can't stand it any longer!" He screamed.

Till, as befits a good father, brought Richard to the ground with one blow to his face.

"Get a grip, Kruspe! It was your stupidity that made what happened happen. No one told you to carry that stock of alcohol here that could knock a herd of elephants off their feet!"

The impact wasn't THAT strong, but it worked, and Richard took a moment to get over it, but he decided to talk to Schneider right after that.

"Are you happy with yourself? It's all because of you." And after that, Richard grabbed Schneider by the throat and pressed him against the wall.

Till didn't believe his eyes. There were some quarrels in the band and some people didn't even get along for a few days, but in the end it all came back on track. Richard had never hit anyone before, he was very gentle and sensitive. Now he behaved as if something had possessed him.

Schneider wasn't going to give up easily, so he grabbed Richard's wrists and pushed him to a wooden table nearby. Richard hit it hard with his back and head, and Christoph leaned over him, almost touching Richard’s forehead by his own nose.

Richard's heart was pounding so hard that it almost hurt, his head ached and the picture in front of his eyes began to blur.

Till hated violence, he felt insecure at the time, so he didn’t know how to react. When someone in the team was arguing, he could separate them, sometimes even shoot them in the head just to remember, but now he was too shocked by Schneider's behaviour to move. Christoph simply fell into rage.

"You bastard, you lied to us for so long, and you're a fag." Schneider was furious, leaning over Richard, who was losing touch with reality.

"Enough! Stop it!" Paul walked away from his sister who tried to stop the bleeding and pulled Schneider off Richard. He pushed him back hard. "You will kill him! Are you crazy?! Get out of here now! Till, take him away!" Paul shouted.

Schneider turned his eyes over and laughed loudly, with a distinct irony in his voice.

Till finally got a little bit of a shake-up and decided to do Paul's bidding. He grabbed Schneider by the rags and in one movement led him out of the room, slamming the door loudly on the outside.

"He kissed him! I saw it!" Schneider was shouting, led, or rather pulled, by Lindemann's big and strong arm. The arm of justice.

* * *

When Richard opened his eyelids, the first person he saw was Paul. He’s dear Paul, and there was darkness in the room. He blinked several times. He started to collect scattered thoughts. He was alive, and that's something. Quite a promising start. Okay. What else? He was lying, that's for sure. On his back, with one hand in the air, hanging from the table. He was able to see the dark blue clouds outside the window.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" He heard a familiar voice, but couldn't answer if something was hurting him because he didn't feel pain. He couldn't feel anything, neither his hands nor his back. Just a little overpowering sleepiness.

He focused. He slowly bent the fingers of his left hand. He straightened them out a little. A strange impression - he was aware that they were moving, although he still didn't feel that he had them at all.

"Richard? Look at me. Can you see my hand? Okay. I want you to follow my finger. Very well. Slowly, you don’t need to hurry. Now up and down. You see? It's not bad for you." Paul did the basic checks he learned in the rescue course before Rammstein started on a serious adventure with pyrotechnic effects. Maybe he wasn't going to be a neurologist, but he knew how to give basic first aid in case of burns, he could do CPR and he knew how to neutralize poisoning. He could also check if the victim might have brain damage.

"So, Dr. Landers, will I survive?" Richard asked gently, a moment later he felt a warm compress on his forehead and someone’s hands pressed it until water poured down his temples and fell under his habit. He was crawling out.

"Easy, my son. It's all right. You have a big temper. But you just wanted to defend yourself, that's understandable." Sister Berengaria has spoken to Richard. She looked at Paul and sighed.

"Don't you think he overreacted? He could have hurt him. The superior father, of course."

"Father Superior is a very difficult man. He's hard to understand and hard to satisfy. His vocation is almost... fanatic. This isn't the first time that he's been here. The monks regularly report to me about the verbal violence that Father Superior uses, but no one can oppose him because everyone is afraid of him." She replied.

"Why are they afraid?" Paul asked. "They can drop their habit at any time, return to normal life."

"My child, it's not so easy in a community of monks, especially men. Nuns can ask to be released from the vows, but men... it's complicated. This monastery has been famous for helping and getting involved in the local community for centuries. The monks educated children whose parents could not afford to study, helped in the fields in the summer, brought vegetables and meat to the village, as well as flour, which they themselves produce in the mill. The people were friendly to them, until he showed up. The superior father does not follow the principles of Christianity, but no one can make him realize this. Believe me, I tried. I am guided by love for man, he wants to be purified of sin, and he doesn't see man in it at all. This is not the idea of our faith."

"What punishment was he talking about?" Richard asked, rising on his elbows, and Paul moved back to a safe distance not to give Sister Berengaria any reason to suspect. Richard felt confused and didn't know what had happened or why. He was used to Schneider's toughness, but he didn't expect one of his best buddies to just jump down his throat.

"In our convent, sisters regularly get alcohol from their families in parcels. Mostly wine, but sometimes something stronger will be found. Sisters share it and we drink wine for dinner. We don't foresee penalties for that. In our convent, nuns ask themselves to repent when they think they have sinned. No one stands over them and watches over it. Because you have to watch your own conscience. You can fool us, but you can't fool yourself. That's what repentance is all about, to repent sincerely and forgive yourself, to let faith into your heart."

"Well the superior father didn't look like someone who just wanted to scare me." Richard sighed.

"He'll probably ask you to do some penance in the form of a prayer, or he'll punish you by painting your pigsty with lime. Don't worry, son." Suddenly, that old nun that Richard made such a mockery of from the beginning when they came to the monastery was the most understanding of all around. Most of the monks did not speak to them, they were busy praying or working, and they remained completely silent and did not talk to each other either - that was the rule in the monastery. The nuns' abbey nearby, where Sister Berengaria was in charge, was a different matter; the sisters were happy and often talked, especially when working in the kitchen. Why didn't the public prosecutor's office and all the cottage workers assign them to the Sisters' convent? Because it would be a moral scandal, something unbearable in the convent community. Even in the male convent there were places where the sisters couldn't enter, for example in the library or chapel. No women were allowed inside the monastery outside the yard, except for the nuns completely. So if a tourist asked for accommodation, it was better for him if he was a man.

The last thing Richard dreamed about was spending the next few hours in prayer, kneeling on the stone floor in the chapel. He hated it. He hated the pain in his knees. He tolerated prayer in wooden benches much better, but the chapel was something that he couldn't get through. The only entertainment in all this was work, although hard, but for a while it allowed him to cut himself off from reality. Even something as stupid as feeding the chickens or helping out in the kitchen seemed to be interesting in the midst of all these litanies. They would get up early in the morning, then pray, eat breakfast together during which they could talk to each other, and then go to work. Thanks to the wound on his leg, which had already healed quite well, Richard gained some time to spend with Paul. And after the evening mass, when his free time came, he was just lying in bed and thinking about going back to Berlin, to the recording studio, and in his head he heard almost all the guitar riffs. Even his fingers missed the guitar strings, but for a few days he missed something else. Paul. He wanted to touch him and just feel him by his side.

In this whole situation, Richard was losing his sense of humor every day. He couldn't adapt to the harsh conditions. He liked to talk and couldn't help but notice when the abbey was silent and caressed for an hour a day. Surprisingly, Till was doing better, perhaps because he spent most of his time just watching his teammates and praying that they didn't do something stupid. Besides, he was probably thinking about new lyrics, because what else can you do for an hour of absolute silence?

* * *

Oliver, unlike the rest of us, hasn't got a problem with who to talk to here? Or: I'm bored. Oliver wasn't bored because he was the only one who worked very hard. When Paul was busy taking care of wounded Richard and making sure that the bandage on his thigh was always clean and dry, the older friars separated the duties. Till and Flake to the mill or apple tree orchard, Oliver to the garden, where he spent long hours in unnatural positions that forced him to use tools designed for smaller brothers of lesser height. Because of his long limbs, Oliver simply bent down, so in the evening he fell out of fatigue, often skipping evening prayers in the chapel, and for hours he tried to fall asleep, but this prevented him from having a back pain. And when he woke up, Tilla and Flake were usually no longer in the room, because they had to run from the mill with bags of flour to bake bread for all monks and nuns.

When Oliver came into the convent kitchen, it was empty. Probably at this time everyone was at the evening mass and dinner together. The fire in the big fireplace was extinguished. So Oliver reached for a few pieces of tree and then lit the fire and poured water into the cauldron above the fire.

"Sit down, my child. You're completely soaked." With a gesture, Olli pointed out a place by the fireplace and looked around the room. There was an old cupboard in the corner of the kitchen, and when Oliver looked inside, he found a large blanket, which he immediately pulled out and carried to Vivien.

On a wooden table set up under one of the windows there were glass bottles with some colourful liquids in them, which Oliver initially considered to be fruit juices from a nearby orchard. However, when he poured something that resembled currant juice into a cup, he realised that it was a drink with a percentage. Without letting himself know it, he drank it fast.

"And how? Warmer, right?" He focused to get more than one word out of himself, and it was hard for him because he was just... Oliver. A shy, quiet bass player, always standing in the shadows, somewhere in the back of the stage where he was barely visible. Olli never had much to say, he was much more likely to listen than to speak. Especially listening to the stories of others. And although he was so tall that he had to bend down when entering some rooms in the monastery, he had a very cheerful and good nature. He accepted everything that fate threw at him, he did not even try to discuss it.

Vivien raised her head and her face lit by the fire gave her a truly romantic look. She was grateful. For everything he did for her.

"I'm still cold." She said, shaking slightly.

Oliver's stomach did a flip. The creature is suffering!

"It's because your clothes are wet, they should dry over fire."

Oliver realized the gravity of the situation. Next to him sat a soaked woman who needed to warm herself up as soon as possible before the cold mountain air knocked her off her feet for next week and led to pneumonia. The village was small and far from the nearest towns and Oliver sincerely doubted that there was anything like a pharmacy or at least a doctor's surgery.

"You must... you must take it off." These words went down his throat hard. Not only because he was wearing a habit and since he crossed the abbey walls, he was very much in the role of a monk, but simply because he was withdrawn and rather cautious when dealing with women. Oliver simply had the nature of a tree. He was tall, silent and swaying in the wind. Now that wind was the monastery he was in, so there was nothing left for him to do but fly with the wind and wait for what fate would bring him.

With increasing difficulty, he resisted the impression that he had become enchanted. He himself endured the closure behind the monastery walls and almost being cut off from the rest of the team, but he desperately lacked human warmth and just... sex with a woman.

"Will you help me? I’m so cold." She asked.

"Yes, my child."

* * *

In another part of the monastery, right next to the library, where there was usually very little movement, Till tried to talk some sense into Christoph. Once again. And once again, he felt that he was slowly losing control of his nerves. How much can Schneider's behavior be tolerated?

According to the calculations, they have about ten days left. The last few have been very turbulent and there hasn't really been one day of peace. Till couldn't stand it anymore, and it was getting weaker for him to think about the torment that awaited him.

Holding Schneider in his hand, it was getting hot. Very hot, even ghostly, as if he was about to dissolve. This feeling had nothing to do with the abdominal muscle injury he had acquired while still a professional swimmer, or with any other injuries that happened on stage, mainly due to Flake. By the way, every time Till came off the stage limping, everyone was wondering how it was possible that Flake - a stem-shaped man - was able to hurt a guy the size of an average German fridge. Such a big one, with a unit and a freezer to complete it.

The spilled feeling of heat that filled Till, initially mistakenly taken for the fire of love for his friend, turned out to be a fire of fury that almost lit him white. And Till finally intended to make Schneider aware of this.

"He kissed him, I saw it! I saw it with my own eyes!" Christoph kept repeating over and over again, as if enchanted, although Till seemed more likely to have just lost his mind. Although... that was known for a long time. "He kissed him!" The drummer screamed out again.

"You didn't mind it during the tour, you even watched it with wild satisfaction during Ausländer. Besides, you know that Paul is emotional and shows it to people."

Christoph wrinkles his forehead, pushing Till away from him.

"Our concerts are a spectacle, everything is set and directed, planned... And what they do... I can't explain it! They're having an affair, I can cut my hand off, it's true!" Schneider snorted angrily.

"Focus and expand on the subject. What you saw... you're nervous and tired. Maybe you just thought you were?"

"I swear, I know what I saw. I've already caught them in an ambiguous situation a few times, but then I thought it wasn't happening, that it wasn't the fault of the mountain climate, that I didn't recover, I made up excuses for myself, until finally today..."

Although it seemed impossible from an ophthalmological point of view, Till's green eyes were expanding more and more from second to second. He felt his knees bending beneath him, he just didn't know whether out of relief or out of horror. He grabbed the walls and tightened his eyelids, because for a moment the world danced in front of his eyes.

"Are you sure?" He asked to be sure, even though his hearing was still pretty good despite his age.

"I'm so sure it can't get any better. Till, don't get me wrong. I'm not intolerant, but I can't stand gay people in a band. We sleep in hotels, sometimes in one room, for God's sake!"

Till was upset. That's not why he was devoting himself to inventing more and more bold scenarios for the band's performance, so that now one of its members would spoil everything. The Rammstein's aim was to reach out to the human psyche, to expose human weaknesses, to draw attention to terrible and controversial things, but also to give joy to the music and the accompanying performance. Fire alone was not enough. A ready-made plan was still needed. Everybody agreed to play the established roles and nobody protested. So far they hadn't gone so far as to publicly kiss on stage when the whole world was watching it, but Till decided that times have changed and we have to adapt, touching on current problems, because the old ones are already bored. To his surprise, Schneider started to break out.

"You intolerant pig." Till said when he managed to keep his balance and not fall on the stone floor.

"I am not intolerant. I don't care about Kruspe, let him date whoever he wants, even an alien or a vacuum cleaner, but he can't do it with one of us! I can't stand it!"

"Christoph..."

"No! Why? Why don't you say something about the devil's cause? It's been going on for a long time."

Till hesitated for a while.

"Understanding cause and effect is a difficult thing to do, and I think I'm the last person who can be a judge in this case. This is a case between Paul and Richard. Liebe is für alle da, don't you remember? We went out to people with this, and now you're spoiling everything. If you have a problem with your psyche, go to a psychiatrist, but don't take it out on Paul and Richard, because they haven't done you any harm." He said.

He broke their stammer. Somebody was in a hurry. When Till looked up at the stairs, he saw a whole herd of monks rushing straight to the chapel. He and Schneider followed the bustling crowd. The monks talked loudly about something, but they did it in a language unknown to Lindemann, so he didn’t understand anything. They rushed through the long corridor, and Till imagined in his mind that it was a fire alarm or an extraordinary call to prayer.

When they found themselves in the chapel, the crowd in the semi-circle crowded in front of the altar, still fiercely discussing and showing something with their fingers.

Till pulled Schneider with him, pushing himself among the monks and took his place in the first row. He noticed the Flake standing on the side of his eye, hiding behind the column. He approached him for some information.

"What's going on here?"

Flake sighed and shook his head.

"There's some kind of big scandal. I hear there's a public execution. Somebody got into trouble, I wonder what kind of idiot..." Lorenz got away with it because when he saw Till, who was getting more and more pale with every word he said, there was a suspicion in his head. And a moment later, it fossilized for sure when Till dangerously waved on his feet. "You know something." He said Flake.

The whole chapel was filled with monks. There was a strange atmosphere, suddenly everyone was silent, and Father Superior marched through the middle of the hall. Then he took his place in front of the altar. He made the sign of the cross and turned to all those gathered.

"The devil reveals his existence through clear signs." He began to speak to the crowd, and his voice echoed throughout the room, although Till was confident that he could be heard perfectly well outside. "Isn't it enough for me to know that the devil who crept into the monk's mind is guilty? Either way, in the final judgment, he will be punished with eternal damnation. God will not forgive him. Who am I to judge on Satan's actions, especially when the man himself was not aware of this? Pray, brothers. Pray for salvation for this stray soul, for only the mortification of the flesh can drive away the devil. The devil fears faith, and true faith is born in pain."

Christoph was tired of these speeches about nothing and leaned over Till.

"They say that true art is born in suffering."

Till wasn't indebted to him.

"I know something about that, smart guy, you once swung your drumsticks so hard you knocked my tooth out."

That was too much. Ever since he came to the monastery, everyone's been acting unprofessional except Oliver. Flake complained, Schneider kept sniffing around, and Richard didn't take precautions, taking a year's supply of alcohol and cigarettes and clothes he shouldn't be wearing at all. Till decided that after returning to Germany he would cut everyone's wages, explaining himself in taxes. Let them suffer for their own!

Talks did not make any sense, because Schneider let in everything Lindemann said to him with one ear, while the second ear was used to let out any information. Till, however, had no idea how desperate Schneider was and how willing he was to do anything to get home.

He only realized this when two monks leading Richard emerged from the crowd.

Initially, Richard protested, not wanting to give in to any kind of penance, but Sister Berengaria literally begged him to agree. For the sake of peace of mind. And Paul added: for the success of the whole rescue mission. So Richard blindly trusted two priests who claimed to lead him to a public prayer for the remission of sins. However, no one expected what the Father Superior could be capable of.

"He has sinned, but will be forgiven." Till felt a familiar touch on his shoulder and turned around, seeing an old nun right next to him. "Don't worry, he's ready for that sacrifice."

Till fainted again. For Richard, the biggest punishment in itself was to agree to something he thought was nonsense. But maybe that'll make him take it all seriously? Their whole future depended on it. Their security for years, money, production, concerts and... life.

Seeing Richard being led like a lamb for slaughter, Flake ironically nodded his head.

"So I felt it was him. I just hope they don't burn him at the stake for it." He made a joke, or at least tried to make a joke in this situation. But neither Schneider nor Till laughed, and surely Paul wasn't laughing, who was also moving around with the righteous.

Richard stopped in the designated place and looked straight into the face of his superior father. He was angry. Angry with himself that he couldn't resist his own temptations, that he was desperately looking for a way to react. He was mad at Schneider, that his friend behaved so despicable. And he was angry at this monk who now stood before him, like a executioner, with a strange expression on his face. And he could do anything with him. Wait, wait, wait. No, he couldn't. Richard was Richard. Not a monk. He didn't swear anything. He was a normal person. No one can make him do anything. He can do it, for the sake of the cause and for Paul's sake, but nothing else.

After the herd of sheep were gathered, he was scared. All of tchem had very strange faces, which neither Till nor Schneider or even the nun next to them couldn’t read. There was a strange atmosphere filled with anxiety.

And it was only when Paul, trying to recognize any emotion on the monks' faces that he looked at the superior father, that he started walking back and forth along the altar, from left to right, from right to left, and then Paul noticed that the monk was holding something in his hand.

Lightning was pouring out of the sky, crackling on the ground, the chapel was flashing every now and then, and rain was pouring down the colored stained glass windows.

The monk in the hood looked even more terrifying now and seemed to Richard big, bigger than Oliver, at least twice. And powerful. His hands were hidden behind his back, and when he finally let go of them loosely, he was holding something that Richard had already seen in one of them while shooting the Rosenrot video. Something that has scarred him to this day.

"And so stood the most holy of the saints, in infinite horror and shame, and two of these cruelty men began with animal bloodthirsty rods to cross his back from top to bottom." Father Superior spoke to the gathered crowd.

Paul needed a moment not to fall on the floor.

"Jesus, Schneider. What the fuck have you done." A whisper came out of his mouth, and then he lost control of his legs.


	19. Trapped in hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We keep our eyes open,  
we hold each other's arm;  
six hearts that are burning -  
the fire is keeping you warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!  
This chapter may contain scenes of a violent character!

"You can't punish me. You can't do anything. Do you know why?" Richard said, kneeling on his knees before an old man. "Because I'm not a priest. I'm not a monk, you understand?!"

The Superior Father looked at him almost with empathy in his eyes. _Oh, what a stupid creature!_

"Son, you have lost faith in who you are, but you cannot deny your service." He said.

Richard thought it makes no sense. Even if he confesses, no one will believe it, and Father Superior will find that Kruspe has lost his mind. All he has to do is play the show and be trustworthy. Maybe then he'll regain his peace.

The gathered crowd looked with eyes wide open to the Superior Father, and some of the monks were shaking their heads with disapproval. Some of them fell to their knees and began to pray. The atmosphere was so gloomy that it brought to mind the most terrifying film of horror, and the air in the chapel became heavy, almost impossible to breathe. A storm raging outside made the interior of the room terribly stuffy.

Sister Berengaria stood next to Till and held him by the sleeve of his habit, as if she was afraid of the whole situation, which seemed completely incomprehensible to Till. He could have sworn that such practices were seen by an old nun many times in her life. Apparently, however, she didn't share father superior's views, because she felt sorry for every living thing and was against all physical punishment.

"I thought she would only ask him to do penance in the form of a prayer. In our women's monastery, that's how it is. But he hasn't changed at all. He's still just as cruel." She said, clenching her fingers on the fabric, and Till felt the weight of her body pushing him down.

Till couldn't stop his anger, and his head was filled with strange thoughts. The prosecutor, under all circumstances, ordered him to stick to the plan and not to give up the action until the antiterrorists got the oppressors, through whom Rammstein had to give up his vacation and flee his home country.

"Is he going to do what I think he's going to do?" Till finally got up the courage to ask sister Berengaria, and when she looked up to him, Lindemann knew everything. He can't let Richard get hurt.

"Will someone explain to me what's happening?" Flake annoyed said. He was the only one who didn't seem to understand the whole situation. He watched the whole thing in disbelief.

"We can't let that happen, Till. We have to end it." Schneider pushed away the Flake, who didn't get an answer to his question.

"Where are you going?" Till was surprised when Christoph moved forward sharply, pushing himself between the crowded monks. He followed him immediately to stop him.

"What do you think? I'm going to stop that old idiot before he hurts Richard! Maybe it wasn't always colorful between us, but Richard's one of us, he's like the beating of my heart and I won't let anyone abuse him with impunity, that's inhuman!"

Till was shocked, but deep down he was glad that Schneider finally took oil to his head and stopped acting against Richard. Although they couldn't get along from the beginning of this expedition and Christoph was angry that he was separated from his family, he kept the rest of his dignity and the spirit of the band proved stronger than anger and his own ego.

"Wait, wait. He's going to flog him?!" Flake shaken his head so hard that his glasses fell off his nose, luckily he caught them in the air before they fell on the stone floor and smashed into small pieces.

"And what will you do? You're gonna hit a clergyman? We got a little trouble? We haven't got one more, Schneider, stop!" Till pulled out his arm to reach Christoph's cassock, but he was pushing forward. At the last minute he managed to stop him.

"Would you let me do that? You, team leader, should be the first to defend him. Come with me and stop it." Schneider said, looking deep into Till's eyes. "Let's stop all this, tell them we're not priests at all, and save Richard."

Flake needed a moment to put everything together. Till's behavior from the beginning of his departure from Germany was mysterious, and when it finally turned out what the destination was, Till went through some strange metamorphosis and became the complete opposite of himself. He tried to keep the secret, not to reveal the details so that the rest of the band would follow him blindly, but Flake knew about a certain detail that Till betrayed.

"I know you want to go home, Christoph, but our safety depends on it. Aren't you afraid for your own children? For your wife? Something could happen to them too. This isn't a fucking casino, we can't risk it." Till tried to talk some sense into Schneider, but Christoph was determined to stop it. "If they throw us out of the monastery, the locals will find out quickly. There will be a scandal, and as soon as the headhunters who are chasing us find out where we've gone, they'll get us at the earliest opportunity!"

"I want to go back. Or at least leave these walls. That's all. I don't want to be here any more!"

"And where are we going to go? We'll go back to Germany? They'll be waiting for us at the airport as soon as we get out of the plane, some hidden sniper will make holes in our heads. The airports and train stations will be the first places they bet. I'm sorry, but I still want to live."

"I don't care what you think, Till. We can't allow such a cruel act to happen. Have you forgotten that Richard is a living being? He feels too, you know?"

Flake decided to stop it. He squeezed in between Schneider and Till screaming, and then he took off his glasses so that one of them wouldn't accidentally throw them off his head if there was a struggle.

"Till won't interrupt this action for some important reason. He got an ultimatum, if he does, then the prosecution will refresh the crime that Till did when he broke some guy’s jaw. And if he did, he'd have a trial and maybe arrest. And he's already had a couple of tiny crimes before, so the court wouldn't look favourably on all this." Lorenz said.

Till squinted his eyes.

"Yes. I know that. The night we slept in Richard's apartment, when I hung my jacket on a hanger, I accidentally dropped your jacket on the floor, and some writing fell out of my pocket. I was curious to know what it might be hiding, so I read it. I know you don't read someone else's correspondence, but in a situation like this, when you called us all together in an emergency and didn't really want to tell us what actually happened... I think you understand." Flake added.

Schneider was shocked. He finally realized that no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't come home until the whole action was successful. So Till kept a secret from the rest of the team once again.

"Listen, the situation is serious. The police are going to organize a provocation, and when they come in, the anti-terrorist team will arrest them. Once they're in, then we'll be back in the country safely. The police promise to do it in less than two weeks. It'll take a couple of days to work out and find out where the provocation is." Till tried to explain himself, but Schneider wouldn't listen.

"So now you want to expose Richard to something so terrible for fear of your own ass?!" Schneider yelled.

"Just an hour ago, you'd have been more than happy to take him under the guillotine yourself." Till said, pushing the Flake away from him, without breaking sight of the drummer.

"I was frustrated, but that doesn't mean I want anyone to hurt him."

"But that's what you did, Christoph. You hurt him yourself. And not just him." At that point, Till pulled out his index finger right at Paul, who fell into some weird kind of lethargy. He wouldn't speak or move, he would stare at his shoes.

Schneider shaken out of anger. He turned around, where Richard was kneeling on the cold floor and waiting for rescue with fear in his eyes. Next to him two clergymen made sure that he would not get up. Christoph looked at the superior's father standing in front of Richard, who was in heat of the moment of power.

A whip. A fucking whip. Schneider's subconscious has been paralysed to the thought of what might happen. Until now, he was only observing and absorbing information, but he did not foresee any acts of violence.

He thought little that he had to atone for his behaviour. And if anyone is to oppose this crib, it is him. He went up to the hooded clergyman.

"Enough of this. I won't agree to that. If you try to hit him, you'll regret it."

The crowd kept silent, and Schneider's words echoed throughout the chapel.

"Do you dare to oppose me? It is not my will. It is the will of the Lord." Your superior said. He was very confident, holding almost the entire abbey in check.

"Bullshit, it's not the Lord's will. It's just some sick satisfaction of your desire for power. It's easiest to control people when they're scared, right? But you know what? I'm not afraid of you." Schneider clamped his jaws, then quickly walked up to the two monks holding Richard by his arms and pushed them away with great force until they were shaken on their feet. "Don't worry, I won't let you hurt me, Kruspe. The brothers are not hurt."

"This man has sinned and must bear the consequences of his sin!" Father Superior said, raising his hands to the vault of the chapel. "There is no room for sinners here, and the way to holiness is to mortify the body. This is the only way to get closer to God, remember this, boy, there are still many things you have to learn, but you won't accept any learning until you deny your destiny."

"You'll be in trouble, Schneider." Richard, almost reconciled with his fate, spoke quietly when Schneider slowly helped him to get up. Kneeling on a stone was a nightmare and it only took a few minutes to paralyze the joints and spine.

"I've been in trouble since I met you. But that's my fate." "Stop. You can't let him go when he's not atoning for his behavior. It's the gravest sin, adultery. I don't want what I've seen to go through my throat. And to sin the sin of homosexuality is a mortal sin. Unforgivable!" The superior once again cried out, almost bubbling with anger.

"If he's so unforgivable, why do you want to punish him? That won't change anything. Anyway, as long as I've known Richard, and it's been twenty-five years, he's never sinned as you call it with any guy. Too bad, because he's a handsome guy." It was like a sharp blow to the face of a priest. Schneider showed him the middle finger with words he hadn't heard from his father. These... slanders that Christoph committed, his courage and insolence!

"I will confess my sin in public. Now, in front of all those in attendance. Yes, I will be ashamed, but I will not bury my head in the sand. I am an adult and I can take responsibility for my actions."

"Richard, don't do this." Schneider begged.

"No, Christoph. I could get out of a drug addiction and I'll do it too. I'm not gonna get killed. I can do this. For the sake of... all of us. We finally stick together."

Paul was silent. His throat was squeezed in fear. He knew Richard was capable of extreme sacrifices, but he didn't expect to make them.

"I bet he'll back off." Flake muttered, which Till reacted to with a deep throat squeeze.

"This is not the right time or moment."

"Come on, you can't stop Richard. Let's let him play it out."

"Since we're here, you haven't once mentioned practicing self-flagellation."

"Flake, shut up!" Till exploded again.

Richard slipped the black material of his cassock all the way down the belt, awaiting further instructions. He expected to do something similar to what he was already doing at _Rosenrot_. And as far as he remembered, it wasn't as scary as it looked in the video. A bit of make-up and accelerated pace was enough to make it look realistic. The point is that now Richard couldn't use special effects.

"Let's get this over with, Christoph. Don't worry, I can do it." He rolled the cassock material under his knees to make him a little more comfortable. "If you're going to punish me in front of all these people, do it. I hope you have the courage to do it."

Schneider couldn't stand it.

"I won't let you do that. I'm the one who's at fault, and I'll be responsible for my actions. "Schneider carefully lifted Richard up, especially looking out for his injured leg, and then slowly started leading him towards Till.

The superior father moved ahead quickly. It was too much.

When Schneider passed the sore Richard directly into Till's hands, he felt that he had been knocked to the ground. He turned around and saw two monks with faces covered with hoods over him, who immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted his arms back and levered him to a standing position, leading straight ahead of the Superior Father.

"You will be responsible for your behavior and put your skins on for your friend, whom you defend so much. If you are a man, you will be ready for such sacrifice."

Till turned in disbelief. He went through the thought that if someone has to make a sacrifice, it should be him. Finally, it was his stupid idea of kissing Paul and Richard on stage that spilled the whole wave of hatred. It was him who organized the trip and he insisted on not interrupting the planned action. He's the one who broke Christoph away from his family.

Schneider was forced to kneel down. The two oppressors immediately ripped his robes in half.

"Flagellation is the only way to lose the passion that brings you to the wrong path. Trust me, son. You will still be grateful to me." Father's superior assured him. He stood near Christoph.

Schneider's breathing became shallow. He saw a whip in the hands of his torturer. It looked exactly like the ones they used at Rosenrot.

He concentrated to the maximum. He was able to meditate. Finally, he practiced yoga with Richard. It helped Richard to get on his spine and his nerves. He was in such a trance that he felt it almost come out of his body. Especially at concerts, when it would seem that fatigue would make it impossible for him to play anymore. He also experienced this during his prayer in the chapel, which Till mistakenly considered an attack of epilepsy.

He took a deep breath. The waiting was endless and the prevailing silence became unbearable.

* * *

"Christoph, wake up."

For that fraction of a second, for that lapse of a second, when the eyelids had opened, and the brain was already recording reality, displacing sleepy dreams, the body was still struggling to return to consciousness. The desired consciousness. Schneider had the impression that he had awakened from anaesthetic coma. He felt inertia in his muscles and had difficulty moving his fingers. When he woke up, he was in a room he had never seen before. It smelled pleasant with herbs everywhere and was warm. His eyes were stuck in a bookcase with books standing opposite him. It was still dark outside the window. He was lying on his stomach, with his hands along his body. He tried to move his fingers. It worked, but his body reacted with a considerable delay as if someone slowed him down. The head was empty. He didn't remember how he got here. The last thing he saw was Richard and Paul in the room, together. They were all kissed together. Then darkness. Until he finally woke up here. There were big lanterns burning in the room, and there was something like an old metal chandelier hanging on the ceiling, whose origin was reminiscent of the late Middle Ages. It was big and heavy, but it swayed sinisterly when the gusts of wind fell through the roofed windows.

Schneider looked around slowly. He saw an old tiled stove in which there was a live fire, while on the fire there was a cast-iron pot from which steam flew out. It smelled like a dish. The game!

He was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and the feeling of tiredness and exhaustion only intensified his hunger. For some strange reason, however, his throat was so tight that he couldn't swallow anything.

"Don't move until I've washed the wound." He knew that voice.

He lifted his head up carefully and saw the Flake, who was creating something on his back with great concentration. The feeling began to come back to him and he discovered that his skin is burning terribly in a way similar to what he knew from sunburn when he was on holiday.

"Flake..." He was scrubbing through his clenched jaws. His teeth hurt terribly. He was clenching them with all his might? Like after seeing an orthodontist. The pain in his jaw was all the way to his ears and head.

"You have balls, Christoph. I didn't think you'd do it. You sacrificed yourself for us, for Richard. I think all your moods and foes have been wholesale forgiven a few years in advance, my friend. Well, that looks pretty good. Just don't take a shower for a few days until the wounds heal. Avoid soaking the bandages."

The meditation stopped working, and for the next few moments, Schneider felt like somebody hit him on the head with a hammer. He was dizzy and nauseous, he felt weak and exhausted like he was in the chapel when Till found him after he had completely lost touch with reality. He wanted to sit down, but he was too weak.

The only thing he got to do was to ask a short question, or rather to erase one word from between his tight lips.

"Richard..."

Flake put his ear up and leaned over a sore Schneider.

"Richard? He's fine. Just a little headache after you hit him during fight. Paul took him to his room to rest. And Till went somewhere with his sister Berengaria. Poor Paul, I don't think he's gonna shake off what he saw." He answered by twisting a white rag and then carefully wiped Schneider's forehead and cheeks.

Christoph felt more and more pain with each passing second, and the skin on his back was baking him mercilessly. He clenched his eyelids, no longer had the strength to say anything or even swear.

"You'll be fine. You must be in pain and suffering, but it will pass. Drink this when you get well, it's herbs from the sisters in the kitchen. They'll help you. They're analgesic. Richard's got some medicine in his house too, then he'll give you something before bedtime. You just saved our asses, Schneider. You're a hero."

"I have to get up. Help me up."

"Are you sure? You want to go to the bathroom?" Flake didn't quite know if letting Schneider make any moves was good at this point, but he couldn't stop him from getting up and taking a few steps around the room. At first, he didn't realize that Christoph didn't remember what happened two hours ago. After a brief thought, he granted his request and carefully imposed some linen white canvas on his back, then turned him over and helped him to get up to his sitting position.

Schneider moaned in pain grabbing on his shoulder. Then he leaned his hands against the bed on which he was lying. His legs touched the ground and finally he felt that he had any power over his body. He was still weak but determined. Leaning against the wooden furniture on his way, he made his way to the secretary's office, over which a decorated mirror was hanging. He reached his left shoulder and began to slowly take off the canvas. He wanted to see what hurt him so much.

The flake stood a few meters behind him, he remained silent. He kept silent and watched. In his opinion Christoph was behaving strangely and could not explain what had happened in the chapel. Schneider silently abolished the punishment of flogging and fell into some kind of madness. Flake once read about catatonic schizophrenia, where certain brain centers shut down and the sick person loses contact with reality, freezing in some position without being able to move or speak.

Schneider finally took off a piece of material and, putting it aside, started to look at the strange cut wounds on his back. He counted over ten of them. Maybe fifteen? In some places the traces intersected and it was difficult to tell how many there were actually. It looked like his skin cracked from excessive strain.

"Who did this to me?"

"Christoph, you don't remember anything?"

Schneider concentrated as much as possible, but the pain prevented him from doing so. He remembered... the mass he was leading. He remembered the slander he threw at Richard. Then... what happened next? A crowd of monks swarming in the chapel and Father Superior. Was it him who did this to him? Somebody inflicted so much terrible pain on him, in the name of what?

"Flake, tell me who did this to me!" His back was decorated with terrible, bloody wounds. How can he get home like this? Will he get scarred? It hurts so much... Every minimal twist of the body was stretching the wounded skin.

"You did this to yourself, Christoph. You did the act of self-flagellation in front of everyone."

* * *

Even now, right in the middle of the night, sitting on the bed, Paul was in disbelief and still couldn't get rid of what he felt in there, a few hours earlier, when Christoph first hit himself. What he saw with his own eyes... He would have sworn that he saw things in life, but not yet. And he would have decided that when he came back to Berlin, he would have a visit to the nearest psychotherapy office, because such a thing is not easy to get rid of.

He had the impression that he had fallen asleep and in his sleep he was experiencing this event, because looking from the perspective of time and circumstances - it was rather like a nightmare. He saw something similar only on TV, in terrible moments like that broadcast late in the evening, so that by chance children couldn't watch them, because they had already slept a long time ago. He thought to himself what would happen if Richard was in Christoph's place. Now he would be lying exhausted, alone, in pain, terrified. And the pain turns into hate, which has great power.

Richard wasn't thinking about Schneider's sacrifice. It might seem cruel, but Richard was mostly egotistical and he cared more about the cause of Schneider. So he decided to ask Paul a very important question.

"What will happen to us now?"

Paul recovered from his terrible thoughts and moved his empty eyes to Richard.

"Nothing. We'll just live. I think the rest of this company is less implicit than you might think. Just like Till. He already thinks Schneider's lost his mind, not until he heard something so incredible from his mouth. And then all that crib in the whipping... Christoph came out an idiot himself. No one will take his words seriously."

"Are you sure?" Paul asked.

Richard knelt on the floor and looked under his bed. The pack of cigarettes that fell in there when his boss's father threw a bottle of whisky at him was still lying there. Richard took it out with undisguised satisfaction and lit one cigarette.

"Remember, the best defense is attack. Deny it. Deny it when anyone asks you about us." Kruspe said, "I'll take a cigarette.

"Do you think our superior father will let us go?"

"I don't care what he says about me. He can go and fuck himself."

"Richard, I don't think it's over yet. But it's just the beginning. And revenge on Schneider is a psychological game on his part. If he wants it, he'll get us."

The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Paul jumped up on the bed. Disturbed, but thankful that the sound of his voice took him away from his gloomy thoughts, he looked at the watch hidden under the sleeve of his habit with a beating heart. Almost twenty-third. At this time, the order should be asleep.

At this time Paul expected to see Till, or one of the monks in his pajamas, while on the other side there was a stranger, even older than the sister of Berengaria. She didn’t look lost, on the contrary. Everything in her seemed to show that despite the unusual time she got exactly where she wanted to go. She stood right at the door, with her hands intertwined in front of her, and looked straight at Paul, instead of wandering around.

Paul's heart was still breaking on his ribs, and all the hairs on his neck stood at attention out of fear. Even so, Paul opened the door.

"Good evening, son." An old nun spoke, raising her chin a little, but without that, she was at least a head above Lander. "Paul, I presume?"

Paul's eyebrows were wrinkled insignificantly. It was starting to be annoying. He had the impression that the last one was just meeting strange people on his way, who like mushrooms grow right under his feet and storm the order. And in addition, everyone without exception seemed to know more about the Rammstein than he did.

"I'm sorry, but it's very late, and I..." He got away. Why is he going into some kind of explanation? "Can I help you?" It wasn't until he heard a quiet, rhythmic tap, that Paul realized these intertwined hands were actually resting on a heavy oak stick. A stick that knocked vigorously on the floor.

"You can make some tea to start with. With something stronger, if you have one." The nun said, entering herself inside, not waiting to be invited.


	20. Take me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver gets carried away by nature, literally and figuratively, while Richard and Paul are visited by an unexpected guest who has a message for them.

Freak! She's crazy. This stranger and himself that he let her in at all. As if he didn't have enough trouble. Why did he open the door? Long after the evening prayers, everyone is asleep, you can't talk or leave your beds. He broke the rules again. Anyway, he talked to Richard earlier. Well, Richard. If he had been in Paul's place, he would have made such a mess that the whole monastery would have stood up. But this time Richard didn't say a word.

In the meantime, the old lady just passed out, and she was a lot bigger than Paul, maybe even could have compared to Till. She was moving around vigorously, so Paul started wondering what her cane was for. And soon he was about to find out, when a piece of oak (or maybe pine? Who would know, Paul didn't know anything about trees) stick snapped Richard right in the head and the cigarette fell out of his mouth.

"What are you doing?!"Richard tried to whisper and scream at the same time.

This time the cane hit his back.

"Please stop it!" Richard protested, and the old lady was nodding her head in disgust.

"You fool!" She said. "You've always liked to be the center of attention, but you keep bringing trouble to your friends, Zven."

Richard gathered himself together and opened his mouth to express his deep indignation, but he immediately closed it. That was the Rammstein's idea, anyway. The band was born, in an act of rebellion, for a better life and a better future. Richard was causing trouble, but that was the past. Now he is clean. He is clean and working hard, for himself, his family and for the band.

"Nothing is gonna help you anymore, even shock therapy or the army, my dear son. And you, think if you really want to put your feelings in such an unstable ground, Heiko."

Paul, just like Richard, stood there dumbfounded and watched the mysterious woman who out of nowhere came to their room, sat down like she did at home and now easily mentioned their names. How did she know about this? She would have to be aware that they were not monks, know the history of the team and their true identities, and she didn't look like a person who was familiar with the Internet or technology.

"How do you know who we are?" Landers finally got the courage to ask. He thought that a squad of armed headhunters might have come in, but he quickly chased away his intrusive thoughts.

"Oh, son. It is enough to look at your auras, at your energy, at your spirit to know that you are not a priests. You come from a completely different place, from a different world. You don't belong here."

"And you came to tell us this? Who are you?" Richard pulled out another cigarette because the previous one was trampled by mistake when a woman hit him on the head with a stick. As soon as he brought the cigarette closer to his mouth, the window opened up with a big bang, and a powerful hurricane fell inside. He swirled in the room, almost extinguishing the fire that was lit in the fireplace.

"Do not underestimate the power of nature, my child. Respect yourself and your body. We need to talk." The woman said.

Paul took a closer look at her. Tall, skinny, with a humped nose and weird eyes, obscure as you see on the posters of an ophthalmologist, and they represent eye diseases such as cataracts. She wore a green, long raincoat, a gypsy skirt with frills, and had leather boots on her legs. Her hair was ponytailed, long and gray. She was a real witch from fairy tales and fairy tales for children. She didn't look like a monk.

"You are not a nun." Paul said.

"I am not a nun."

"Then who you are?"

"Poeple says I'm a forest spirit."

"You're joking."

"I'm not." 

"Bullshit, she's some old gypsy, she's surely seen us on TV or the Internet, and now she's trying to scare us." Kruspe said. The nature of the rebel was not to be forgotten even for a moment, which made the old woman angry.

"Listen, you were, are and will be the one who comes out in front of the line, but that's not always good. This is not the time or the place to show emotions. You have to be cold and focused. You have shown emotion and your loved ones suffer because of it. Don't hurt them just because you can't stop yourself. But remember, guilt always tramples punishment on your heels!"

Emotions? What emotions? Richard was silent for a moment to think about it, and after a while he squinted his eyes.

"What emotions are you talking about?" He asked.

The woman laughed with pity, then approached Richard and tenderly smoothed his hair.

"Oh, Zven. We both know very well what kind of emotions you're talking about." And that's what she looked at Paul in a significant way. "No emotion must be shown here. You have to blend in with the crowd. Do what they tell you to do. Use this time to contemplate, and when you come home, you will see... Everything will work out by itself. Well, because you want to go back to Berlin, right?

"I have a bad feeling about this. Very, very bad..."Paul slurred out. The darkness danced in front of his eyes. He blinked once and twice to get rid of them as soon as possible.

"Somebody must have finally shown you the way. But for strange reasons, you ignore all the warnings and do not want to follow them. You have to do it. For the sake not only of yourself, but of others. Remember this. And don't worry about your superior father. Nature will punish him herself. Be patient." Bowing her head, the woman got up and walked to the door. Then she felt her whole body piercing a fleeting, nauseating tingling sensation. "Christoph is approaching. His aura is filled with anger, it's so negative that it hurts me." Without giving too much time for fear to spread the wings, she turned the handle and left, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.

Richard recovered the first of his lethargy and, in two extremely long steps, he found himself right at the exit, and when he pressed the knob on the doorstep, he almost bumped into the Flake, who, with his last strength, brought Schneider half-hung on him. When he looked out into the corridor, he saw only the darkness and burning where not where the torches. After the woman, it was not even fast. Is it possible to disappear so quickly?

"Have you seen her?" Richard asked.

Flake lifted his head and looked around.

"Who?"

"That old woman, she just left here. She was in the hallway. Did you see her?"

Flake wrinkled his eyebrows and squeezed his mouth into a narrow line. He didn't look happy or joking. Schneider weighed himself and Flake had to carry him up to the second floor.

"What are you talking about, Kruspe? There's nobody here. Open the door wider and help me bring Schneider inside." He warned the guitarist, but when he took a step forward, Christoph suddenly woke up and stood on his own feet.

"Leave me alone, I can handle it on my own." And without much effort, he entered the room, leaving suprised Lorenz behind his back.

"Just fifteen minutes ago you were as inert as a sack of potatoes. What’s going on with you?!"

"Just leave me alone." Schneider moved carefully towards his bed, and after a while he fell on it, hissing in pain. He closed his eyes and breathed hard.

Richard already wanted to come up, ask how Christoph was feeling, offer something to drink, possibly offer to help, but the drummer was sniffing aggressively:

"Don't come any closer to me. I want to be alone."

Richard sighed.

"I want to help you. And I want to know why you did it... for me."

"Leave me alone."

"But...

"Reesh..." Paul grabbed Kruspe's arm and gently pulled in his direction. "If he wants it, let's leave him alone. Tomorrow you will talk to him. He is tired and suffering, and when he suffers, the pain turns to hatred. He is aggressive because it hurts him. Come on, let him sleep."

The realisation that by crossing the threshold of his fifty-second birthday he finally had everything - admittedly after many suffering and unproductive years, but he lived to see it - and that, in addition, the person closest to him turned out to be his beloved, enjoyed and overwhelmed him. The reasons for his joy were obvious to him and did not require any consideration, and the overwhelming... Well. For so many years he lived without any obligations, he lived as his own rudder, sailor, ship, and, when necessary, his home port. He was a little bit bit bitter to his conscience that day after day his own children were sitting at home and taking care of each other, while he was fulfilling himself professionally, even if two of them were already adults and lived their lives but he had to involve them in taking care of the third, youngest one? However, she was always feeling angry every time he treated her like a baby crying about her father. And now? He was staring impassively at the wooden beams under the ceiling, wondering how much more time he would spend in the cassock, pretending to be a monk in an old monastery. He is not allowed to contact anyone close to him, no phone calls or messages. If something happened, the police would certainly give them the news. And since there is silence, everything is probably fine. Probably...

Until now, he thought he was a pretty good father and, despite his fame and a lot of duties, he managed to run a house, do math and be a parent. And when he comes home, how he will tell to his family that he and Paul... No!

He wrongly had a diva patch. Only because he was nervous, because the rest of the team did’t want to work hard as the way Richard was used to. Every day had to be productive, otherwise he couldn’t call himself an artist. And so he kept on pushing invisible pins on himself, practicing masochism in its own right, because the desire to be needed and productive drove him forward. If the world stopped needing him, Richard would lose the desire to live. In the monastery, the only person who needs him is Paul. He needs him not to go crazy. If they can't play or make music here, they need each other to stay in their senses.

Till, on the other hand, was considered to be the leader of the band, even though he wasn't able and shouldn't be the boss, but he was ready to kiss Richard even on his bare ass for the fact that he was alive, that he could be relied on, that he was never late in the recording studio and that he gave two hundred percent of his power. Although Richard didn't work for Till to kiss him on anything, not at all. To be honest, he would have preferred to kiss on more private land and not with Lindemann. That way, the dilemmas were full circle. Hopeless coincidence.

* * *

Oliver hung his monastic philosophy on a peg and just before sunrise, when all the clergy were still asleep, he left the medieval walls at the side of a young woman, fortunately already dry, who he decided to take her all the way to the village, so that she wouldn't wander around the forest alone. By the way, he wanted to pick up the cones, because - as he managed to notice, and he had a lot of time to do so, because he spent the night in the kitchen room, where the windows were full of cones and mushrooms - the nuns were rushing the pine stock, supposedly great for sleep and stomach problems. For Oliver, every activity was better than digging in the vegetable garden, and Sister Berengaria appreciated every activity and thus relieved her of other duties. Besides, the cones had another use for him - focused on looking for them in the forest sheathing, he didn't waste time admiring the charms of the young shepherdess, which could have led him astray, made him sick, demoralized and depraved. And that would have led him astray, depraved, demoralised and depraved him more than once. But he really wanted it.

"Thank you for taking me into the monastery for the night." Vivien said after a few dozen meters, when Oliver was just busy lifting another cone. He straightened up, smiled under his nose and moved his shoulders.

"It’s my duty to help... the faithful." Calm and quiet by nature, Oliver couldn’t talk to women, because he was simply ashamed of them and, unlike his teammates, he never saw women as mountains to conquer, but a human. And Vivien was a human who needed help, so Oliver had no choice but to fulfill his mission. Maybe of all the Rammstein men, he was the one who was fit to be a monk? In fact... he liked nature, was not crazy about women, had no addictions, liked a healthy lifestyle and avoided scandals.

"You risked breaking the rules... for me. It was nice, but you didn't have to do it." She said.

"I couldn't put you out of the way in a storm. It's dangerous. I had to protect you." He felt blushing, and Vivien pretended with all her might not see the way he was looking at her. She knocked the leafes out of her dress, she peeked upwards, into the sky that shone between the tree crowns, downwards, onto her shoes.

Finally, as if from an accident, she let herself be carried away through the forest, and Oliver, thinking little, followed her. After a dozen or so meters, Vivien grasped over her shoulder, to make sure that the bassist was still following her, and she accelerated the step a little, so Oliver also accelerated. They were wandering for such a good quarter of an hour, running through the chashes and stings, between the trees, deeper and deeper into the woods, heading down the river, straight into the village. Vivien looked at Oliver time and again, waving a white dress, and Oliver had forgotten about cones and business with nuns.

All of a sudden, he stood up like a snitch, because unexpectedly she stood up and Vivien.

She looked around with a sincere astonishment. Finally, she turned to Oliver and said:

"I'm sorry, but... I think we've deviated from the road. We got lost."

Oliver felt awkward because they were both silent. However, he felt more and more guilty about saying something. If somebody had seen them now, he would have probably suspected that it was him who led the defenceless young woman into a thick, dark forest that absorbed the moisture of the morning. And what would he have to defend himself? Only a habit could save him. Unless nobody looked underneath and saw the heavy tactical boots that Oliver wore and didn't intend to change to any other, because he was comfortable walking in them. And it was playing on stage. And he looked more dangerous in them than usual. The question is whether it is possible to look even more dangerous if you are more than two meters tall and over the head of everyone?

"We could stick to the path." He finally said, waiting for the girl's reaction, but she laughed at his words.

"I wanted to take a shortcut."

"People always get lost when they want to take a shortcut, and we don't have a map or even a phone to call for help."

"Are you afraid of the forest?" Vivien was surprised. "I thought the nuns were more courageous."

"I remind you, young lady, that we are more concerned with animals or vegetables on a daily basis, not with hand-to-hand combat. " Oliver answered, intensifying his serious tone. Deep down, he tried to beat the thought that germinated, and it sounded like _a stranger should be afraid of me, after all I am a Rammstein bass player_. For obvious reasons, however, he couldn't admit his real self, although he couldn't resist the impression that Vivien didn't believe in his habit and all the cribs associated with his stay in the convent.

"I believe that you will protect me. You wouldn't let anything happen to me, would you?"

* * *

Richard was just beginning to shave in front of a small mirror when suddenly he felt someone's hand on his shoulder and heard Paul's voice.

"Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?"

It scared him because he didn't notice Paul in the mirror, which reflected almost the entire room, but he could see Schneider sleeping perfectly.

"Slept well? I rather tried to sleep. Four hours, what kind of sleep is it? I miss Berlin, I could sleep until noon and spend my days over a mug of coffee, tingling on the guitar."

Paul smiled.

"At least you can at least get away from your work and responsibilities for a while. I'd much rather do the laundry than listen to Till howling and Schneider complaining, and because that's the sound that goes wrong in the studio, and that's tea too cold, and that's not the sound... And here I have peace… And you." From the corner of his eye he looked at Christoph, who slept face to the wall and dreamed deeply, as evidenced by the snoring reaching into Paul's ears. He took a step closer to Richard and kissed him on the neck.

Kruspe groaned and leaned his head to the side.

"Schneider." He admonished Paul.

"He's sleeping."

"But he may soon wake up."

"He is dizzy, he doesn’t know what’s happening." Paul grabbed Richard’s face and kissed him hard. He could feel Richard’s growing up erection on his thigh.

"We can't risk it, you heard what the woman said?" Kruspe broke the kiss and breathed deeply.

Paul wrinkled his forehead and moved away from Richard. He sat calmly on the edge of his bed, as calmly as he had been about everything in his previous life and began to wonder what he actually wanted to do and what he should do. One thing he was sure of, he couldn't tell himself in front of Schneider, although it actually seemed that Christoph knew everything.

"What will we do with Schneider? Paul asked, knocking Richard out of his shaving rhythm.

"I think he knows. There is no point in pretending anymore. Let's face it, you have to admit it and live on. It's too late, he had seen too much." Kruspe said. He noticed that in one place on his face he jammed and started bleeding. He sighed with his resignation.

"No, it’s not too late. We can tell him that he didn't saw anything. Till and Flake didn't seem to believe him. Till is so blind that even if a flying saucer from outer space fell on his head, he would still claim he doesn't believe in UFOs, he's blinded by his own views, and he's an atheist. He doubts everything and doesn't think we are gay. Till thinks Schneider's crazy, it always has. We all know that Christoph tends to exaggerate, so Till thinks so too. Otherwise, he would have taken us for an interview a long time ago and asked if it was true that we were fucking."

"We're not fucking." Richard quickly added when a strange flash in Paul's eyes made him realize that the guitarist probably wanted something.

"Yes. Not yet. Unfortunately. But be patient, my baby boy." Paul said with a smile on his face and he licked his lips.

"Don’t you think I’m too old for calling me baby boy, uh?" Richard asked.

"As you prefer. I can call you daddy. Even if you’re younger than me."

"You will be my daddy."

And the silence came. Paul was looking at Richard, and he didn’t know what to say. He felt dizzy and hot at the same time. He wanted to touch him, kiss him and… okay. Stop.

"Uhm, talking back to you, I think Till thinks Schneider has gone crazy and lost his mind that he's talking about something that didn't happen. And let's stick with this scenario. And as for Christoph... let's wait until he wakes up and see what he says."

"You're right. By the way, it would be strange if we were fucking in a convent, don’t you think? Things like that happen only in porn movies." Richard said and Paul got up to kissed him again, but when Kruspe turned around and opened his mouth to say something, the sound of quick steps came from the hallway. Someone inevitably approached.


End file.
